


Heavy With Hoping

by ourspecialtonight



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Armitage Hux Has Issues, Bitter Exes, Break Up, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Hurt/Eventual Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Kylo Ren Has Issues, M/M, Minor Character Death, Unhealthy Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-18
Updated: 2020-11-07
Packaged: 2021-03-03 02:00:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 35,822
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24257035
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ourspecialtonight/pseuds/ourspecialtonight
Summary: "May I ask a question, sir?""You want to know what sort of fucking lunatic would willingly sleep with Kylo Ren."Mitaka smiled uncomfortably."He wasn't always like that," Hux said quietly.
Relationships: Armitage Hux & Dopheld Mitaka, Armitage Hux/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren, Rey & Ben Solo
Comments: 42
Kudos: 90





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See endnotes for chapter-specific warnings.

**Five years before the firing of Starkiller.**

i.

Supreme Leader Snoke was in the hangar bay to receive the shuttle, which was highly unusual. Unheard of, in fact. Major Hux and his commanding officer, General Traf, had cleared out the rest of the staff from the hangar on Snoke’s orders, which was also unheard of. It made Hux uneasy not to have any troopers nearby, given that he had no idea who (or what) was on this piece-of-shit shuttle. He had only met the Supreme Leader in person on a handful of occasions, and none of them had been pleasant. It was even worse being alone with him, in the eerie calm of the evacuated hangar. 

The shuttle door hissed open, releasing a short burst of sanitizing steam, and Hux’s chest tightened in spite of himself. He didn’t think Snoke would get rid of him and General Traf by setting a Rathtar (or something equally ghastly) on them, but one never knew. His hand drifted to the blaster at his hip until Traf gave him a sharp look, then he returned it behind his back in parade rest. His fingers twitched. Rathtar or not, Traf would not be around for much longer if Hux had his way. And Hux always had his way. 

When the steam cleared, it wasn’t a Rathtar that came down the ramp, but a slim young man with dark hair. His clothes were torn and his face ashen with fear. His gaze darted from the TIE docking stations, to the row of dormant AT-ST walkers, to Hux and Traf, before finally settling on Snoke. Hux watched with interest as Snoke approached the stranger, who looked up at his twisted face with a mixture of horror and desperate relief.

“Are you--” he started but cut off with a yelp of pain as Snoke made a gnarled fist, forcing the young man to his knees. If he were any less well-trained, Hux would have startled. 

Snoke came nearer and lifted the young man’s chin with his fingers, then ran a pruny thumb over his cheek. When their eyes met, they were silent for a long time, and the young man’s expression shifted from confused fear to wary hope, then back to fear, as if an unspoken conversation were occurring before Hux’s eyes. Then the young man swallowed hard, tears glinting in his eyes, and nodded. Snoke smiled and stroked his hair like a pet. Hux cringed inwardly. 

“General Traf,” Snoke said, without taking his eyes from the young man at his feet, “Arrange security clearance and living quarters for my new apprentice.” 

ii.

When he wasn’t training with Snoke directly, the apprentice’s orders were to shadow Hux and learn the inner workings of the Order. His origins were strictly classified, but really, it was not a stretch to figure out that he came from the New Republic. Hux wondered that they bothered classifying it at all; the young man couldn’t keep his own alias straight. He introduced himself as Ben on that first day, then had to sheepishly correct himself the next morning. Hux figured out early on that “Kylo” was not something that Ben would answer to with any consistency, so he switched to “Ren” as a middle ground. Ren understood the basics of military structure and protocol, but had no military bearing. That kind of laxness was a hallmark of the Resistance, that easy, back-slapping, great-job-buddy camaraderie with zero understanding of self-discipline or propriety. That kind of attitude had led more than one Resistance spy to their death: the loose movements, the too-quick smile, the forgiveness of flaws. If Ren was a spy, he was not making a good effort. But Hux held his tongue, for the time being. Snoke must have known already, and if he was stupid enough to be fooled by this act, he didn’t deserve the First Order. If he was that stupid, he could be taken care of. 

So Hux kept a close eye on the newcomer. He followed orders to the letter, documenting his steps carefully, lest he be accused of collusion when Ren turned on Snoke. It might just work out perfectly: the Supreme Leader, ever compassionate, mauled by the stray dog he invited in. General Traf could be discreetly taken out in the ensuring chaos, ticking another of his father’s piggish friends off the list. Then Hux would rise, strong and solid, to pick up the pieces and unify the Order once more. 

After a few months, the order came down to assess Ren’s piloting ability. Hux considered pointing out that a flight instructor would be better qualified, but honestly, the idea of spending a bit more time with Ren was appealing. When he mentioned it over lunch the following day in the officer’s mess, Ren’s face lit up. 

“Please, Hux, let me take you for a ride. I promise I’ll make it worth your while.”

“It’s not a question of ‘worthwhile.’ I do not have the ability to assess your skill level,” Hux protested.

“I’ll make it easy for you,” Ren said, cracking a smile. 

\--

From the cockpit of one of the docked TIE/SF models, Ren went over the laminated preflight safety checklist. One leg dangled lazily out of the hatch. “The spacecraft appears to have two wings, approximately one per side, which is the…” Ren paused to consult the sheet, “correct number. Check! Fuel indicator shows twenty-eight flight hours remaining,” he said, raising his eyebrows at Hux, down on the floor of the hangar. “That’s good. We’ll definitely need all of it. Pilot’s safety belt. Appears to be intact, but we’d better make sure. Yes, the clicking mechanism is fully functional. Check! Digital cockpit chrono… what time do you have, Major? Oh, it’s one minute slow. Not to worry, I can perform the needed repairs. I’ll bill you later for my labor.” Hux smiled in spite of himself. 

Ren finally finished the checklist and reached down to give Hux a hand getting into the rear gunner’s seat. Hux settled himself in, anxiety rising from his stomach to his chest as he adjusted the straps to fit. Ren twisted around in his seat and checked Hux’s straps as well, then gave Hux’s borrowed flight helmet a shake to check for fit. His expression was serious and focused now, which was mildly relieving. 

“When was the last time you were in a starfighter?” Ren asked.

“I took an introductory flight course at the junior academy, before I switched to engineering. I wasn’t any good at it.”

“Well, just try not to shoot anything important,” Ren said, and smiled again. 

He shifted back into the pilot’s seat and decoupled the TIE from its docking station before making a smooth, slow departure from the hangar bay. What followed was the most recklessly joyful hour Hux could remember. Ren took them a safe distance from the Finalizer before hitting the throttle and taking them up to full speed. Hux felt his stomach jump as Ren dropped the craft into a nosedive then arced back upwards, like a sine wave, until they were flying nearly vertical. Though of course, in the absence of gravity, it didn’t feel vertical. Ren took them in barrel rolls, pitchbacks, wingovers, yo-yos, rolling scissors, every single strategic maneuver Hux knew by heart from analyzing hours of combat footage, but had never experienced himself. Ren’s flying was masterful. Usually at least one pilot or gunner would return from a dogfight with broken collarbones or bruised ribs, a result of jerky movements throwing them into the harness. But Ren’s maneuvers were effortlessly smooth, moving through high-G without even whiplash. The sensation of speed was utterly, childishly thrilling, and more than once Hux was horrified to hear himself laughing. Not a smirk, not a derisive chuckle, but a full-voiced, high-pitched laugh. 

After putting the fighter through its paces, Ren brought it to a halt and killed the engine, leaving them floating silently in the vacuum. Hux twisted around in his seat. “What are you doing?”

“This is my favorite part,” Ren said. 

“What is?” Hux asked.

“Just look.” 

Hux looked. It was space. The same space from viewports he passed by hundreds of times per day without really looking. The Finalizer was only the smallest pinprick of light a hundred miles below them, one among a million pinpricks of light. In most of the ways that mattered, it was his home. Onboard that tiny light, operations continued as they always did. The orders, reports, and projects that constituted Hux’s life’s work, all onboard that speck. Human functions, as well, the ones Hux liked to pretend didn’t exist: officers daydreaming at their stations, stormtroopers fucking, new recruits weeping, technicians taking bumps of spice to stay awake. Seeing it all hang there among the stars, so insignificant and vulnerable, chilled his blood momentarily. 

He was aware, too, of the silence. He realized that he had never felt such complete silence, even by himself in his quarters at night. There was always the hum of the artificial atmosphere and climate control. Maybe some faint voices out in the hall, or the beep of a comm. The small sounds of life were a comfort to him. It was a reassurance that others were still up, looking out for the safety of the ship, and he could take his turn to rest. He imagined primitive ancestors of his, maybe on a small planet circling one of these stars, taking turns minding the fire and watching for predators while the others slept, murmuring stories to pass the time. But now, without the whine of the engine, he could hear only his own breath. And if he listened closely, Ren’s breath behind him. It would be easy for Ren to get rid of him, alone out here. Hux was surprised to find that he wasn’t concerned at all. 

Over time, he had tried not to notice the easy closeness that had grown between him and Ren. It was something that slipped in when he wasn’t being careful. When they had orders, Hux could maintain that distance by sticking to the protocols, delivering the lesson or what-have-you. But once the task was completed and they were still spending time together, the plausible deniability was gone. After a while, it was mutually assumed that they would eat lunch together in the officer’s mess. Sometimes they talked, but other times they sat in companionable silence. The silence in the fighter now, with Ren sitting with his back to Hux’s, made him feel even closer to Ren. That kind of quiet intimacy was foreign to Hux, but the more he felt it, the harder it got to let go of it. Every day, Hux took his place in the unbroken chain of soldiers barking orders at other soldiers, and he was proud to do so. But still, there was a dissonant loneliness to living in close quarters with eighty thousand other people. It gnawed at him. This was something he’d never had before...a friend. Ren was his friend. 

Ren was the first to break the silence. “Ready to go back?” His voice sounded slightly raw. Hux wondered what kind of epiphany Ren had come to on the other side of the TIE.

“Yes,” Hux said. Ren fired the engine back up and soon they were whipping back toward home in loops and spirals, any excess sentimentality burned off in the thrill. 

When they pulled back into the hangar and Ren helped him down from the rear seat of the TIE, Hux found his legs could barely support him. Ren slipped an arm around his waist to steady him, and Hux leaned into him, seeing his own exhilarated glee reflected in Ren’s smile. After that, it was only natural to invite Ren back to Hux’s quarters to show him his pet engineering project, plans for a new type of TIE fighter that he thought Ren would enjoy. When they got there, it was only polite to offer him a drink. When Ren finally kissed him, then lifted him onto his desk and leaned him back until they were lying on top of Hux’s blueprints, that was acceptable. 

iii.

They never talked about it, after that first time or any other time. They followed orders, completed trainings, then fell into bed together. Again and again and again. On this night, about a month after the first, Ren had come to Hux’s quarters on the pretense of asking a question about the stormtrooper training program. The excuses were getting flimsier and flimsier. 

“I’ll answer your question when you take that stupid thing off your head,” Hux said. The helmet was a new and pointless addition to Ren’s wardrobe, something Snoke insisted on. 

Ren was usually quick to oblige taking it off, but tonight he hesitated. When Ren’s fingers released the catches and lifted the mask off, Hux was shocked to see that Ren’s lip was split and his nose appeared to be broken, with a black eye forming on one side. A reddish web of fractal-patterned marks crept over his collar and up his neck. 

“What the hell happened to you?” Hux said.

“You should see the other guy,” Ren said, with a tired smile.

“What? Who?”

“Hux, it’s a joke,” Ren said, then, in a smaller voice, “It’s part of my training.” 

Hux got up wordlessly from the couch they were sitting on and went into the fresher, surprised by the depth of his own anger. It wasn’t as if he himself hadn’t been beaten, by his father or by his classmates. And he’d given worse than he got, over the years. He ripped open the medicine cabinet and pulled out a half-empty tube of bacta before returning to Ren’s side. 

“Is this why he has you wear the helmet? So he can do whatever he likes to you without anyone knowing?” Hux said, dabbing the ointment onto Ren’s lip first, then his nose. His breath felt hot and tight in his chest.

“I don’t know,” Ren admitted. 

“Are you hurt anywhere else?”

“Just some bruises, I guess. It’s fine. Oh, and this.” Ren pulled down his collar to reveal more of the spidery red marks.

“Take your shirt off,” Hux said, using the command voice that brooked no argument. Ren complied. The scarring covered most of his right shoulder, with webbed tendrils reaching down his chest and back and up his neck. Hux had never seen anything quite like it. He doubted he had enough bacta left in the tube to cover it all. 

“What did this?” 

Ren looked uncomfortable. “Lightning,” he mumbled. Hux rubbed his hand over his face. 

“How did you get struck by lightning, Ren?”

“It’s something Snoke knows how to do… Force lightning. He’ll teach me to do it, eventually,” Ren said, as if that made it okay. 

“Ren…” Hux said. His voice failed him. He wanted to shake Ren, shout _why the fuck did you even come here?_ Hux survived in the Order because he had no choice. He made the strictures work to his advantage. But what kept Ren around, if he wasn’t a spy (a possibility Hux had long since rejected)? He wanted to stick Ren on a shuttle and send him lightyears away from the lion’s den, away from the Snokes and Brendols and General Trafs who would feast on his heart, even if it meant never seeing him again.

But instead Hux pulled him closer and kissed him, his hand fisted possessively in Ren’s hair. Ren sighed into the kiss, so willing, and Hux’s anger melted into plain sadness. He wasn’t even sure he wanted Ren to be _his_ , as such, but knowing that he never could be, that Snoke had already dug his claws in, still hurt in ways he didn’t want to examine too closely. Ren couldn’t see it yet, but Hux knew where this kind of abuse led. His tongue in Ren’s mouth wouldn’t stop it. 

He let Ren take him to bed and fuck him, inevitably. Hux arched his back into the mattress and tried to forget everything but the sensation of Ren’s cock. It worked for a few minutes. Then Ren made a particularly soft noise, and waves of sadness, almost like grief, hit Hux again. He could see the question rising to Ren’s lips, some expression of concern. Hux didn’t want to hear it, so he pulled Ren down next to him and whispered in his ear, “Ben.” The tiny rebellion pulled conflicted moans from Ren’s throat. “Yes, Ben, harder.” 

Ren did not last long after that.

The body fluids on Hux’s exposed skin became chilled and bothersome after a time, so he got up and made his way through the dark into his refresher for a shower. When he put on his robe and returned to his bed, Ren was still in it, naked and asleep. The bacta was already working to fade the bruises and correct his nose, but the lightning scarring ( _lightning_ , for fuck’s sake) still looked angry, even in the low light. Hux was taken by the embarrassing urge to slide in next to Ren and hold him. They’d never spent the night together before. Probably for good reason. He stood over Ren at the side of the bed for a moment, considering his options. 

As Hux was about to lean over and nudge him, Ren jolted awake and reached out his hand to catch the lightsaber already flying toward him from across the room. Hux scrambled backward until he hit the wall behind him. Before Ren’s thumb could ignite it, though, recognition crossed his face and he dropped his weapon in horror. 

“Please don’t do that. I’m really sorry. Please don’t do that again,” Ren panted. 

“Do _what_? I didn’t do anything!” Hux said. 

“I’m so sorry, Hux. I thought-- I didn’t think it was you.” Oh. Oh, of course. 

“Snoke.”

“No, not Snoke,” Ren said miserably. “Someone from before I came here. Someone I trusted.” 

And with that, it all made sense to Hux. Why Ren had fled the New Republic, why he tolerated Snoke’s treatment, why he would never be convinced to leave. A younger Hux would have done the same thing, given the opportunity to get away from Brendol. He could picture that Hux panicking and pulling a blaster on some poor idiot who came up behind him without warning. 

Ren was staring intently at a spot on the blanket, trying to hold back tears. He looked up, surprised, when Hux came back to sit next to him on the bed.

“Come here,” Hux said, opening his arms and stretching out his legs. Ren settled into his embrace with his head nestled under Hux’s chin. “It’s okay.” 

.

.

.

These were the memories that came to Hux unbidden, five years later, when he was privately fuming and burying himself in work after another fight. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kylo is physically abused by Snoke (this is not explicitly shown). Kylo also gets triggered by Hux standing over him as he sleeps.
> 
> Thanks for reading, comments welcome!


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A year after joining the First Order, Kylo goes on his first mission. When he returns, he finds Hux in his bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See endnotes for chapter-specific warnings.

After nearly a year with the First Order, Snoke had finally determined that Kylo was ready for a field mission. One of the Order’s colonial holdings on Maltha Obex was starting to show signs of civil unrest. The Supreme Leader deployed Kylo there with Captain Phasma and twenty troopers for riot control, if needed. The objective was simple: root out the agitators and eliminate them. Maltha Obex was an Outer Rim planet like any other, a multispecies melting pot with a thriving barter economy centered around a few central outposts. Except this one also had humidity and giant centipedes. That hadn’t been in the brief. The First Order was the best thing to happen to this planet in a hundred years, from what Hux had told him about it. They had put in a tsillium refinery that created thousands of jobs and nearly eliminated the need for scrapping. But recently there had been incidents of workers walking off the job en masse, then an escalation into planting homemade explosives in the foreman’s office. “No good deed goes unpunished,” Hux had said. 

When they landed, Kylo took his helmet off and stripped off a couple outer layers of clothing to look less conspicuous. He could feel Phasma eyeing him behind her visor, but she said nothing. She never said anything, it seemed like. Kylo was always unnerved by her, but Hux trusted her, so Kylo tried to as well. The Supreme Leader probably wouldn’t be happy about him going maskless, either, but it felt smarter to do recon this way. Why come in blasters-blazing when a little finesse would get a better result? Results should be the only thing that matter. 

He instructed Phasma to hang back until he returned with intel, then headed out over the dunes on a commandeered speeder. After chatting up a few subversive-looking alien girls in the bustling marketplace, all conspiratorial smiles and whispers, Kylo heard the name of a certain cantina come up several times.

“And where’s that, sweetheart?” He was leaning on a Zeltron textile trader’s table. “I’m new in town, I could use some friendly faces.” He subtly flashed her the Rebellion salute, though it made his soul ache to do it. 

A slow smile crept across her magenta face and she pointed to the far edge of the marketplace. “Just over the dunes, comrade. Things get real friendly after second sunset.” 

“Thanks--”

“Ganna,” she said.

“Thanks, Ganna. Maybe I’ll see you later.” He tapped the table twice with his knuckle and winked at her before heading back to the ship to regroup and plan for the evening’s events. 

Calling The Thirsty Duneworm a cantina was generous. It was a big enclosed tent, more like, with stacked crates and coolers of alcohol and a few picnic benches and empty alumisteel kegs for seating. Kylo ordered a drink from the bartender, an older Gran with a protruding belly. When the Gran handed over the glass of amber liquid, Kylo held it up and could clearly see grains of sand floating to the bottom.

“That’s why they call it grain alcohol, stranger!” the Gran said, and brayed with laughter. Kylo grimaced and took a sip, not wanting to start anything before he had to. Over in the corner, he spotted Ganna and a few others talking in hushed tones. He used the Force to make himself unnoticed, and then he lightly skimmed their minds. Ganna was deeply focused on their conversation; she was thinking strategically. There was a connection to the Bothan man sitting next to her, a friend or adoptive brother, maybe. She saw both her companions as sources of hope, but she felt more protective of the Bothan. Likely because he was in constant pain. If Kylo had to guess, it was chemical burns on his arms and hands, at least a couple months old. There was anger there as well, anger at the refinery. At the First Order. There was a third one too, a Mirialan with olive green skin and intricate facial tattoos. She exuded calm and competence. She was laser-focused on an objective, but underneath that was a slowly roiling anger like bubbling lava. Those two things were a dangerous combination, Kylo knew. She was the mastermind. That was all he needed.

Within a moment, Kylo extended one hand to freeze the three in the corner, drew his saber with the other one, and shouted to Phasma, who was waiting outside. Utility knives shredded the canvas tent walls and troopers filed in from all sides, already firing on the bartender and the few other patrons. They fell with no struggle. The Mirialan would be taken back with them for interrogation, that much was certain. Phasma was already cuffing her wrists and neck. Kylo took a moment to consider the other two before he shoved his saber into the Bothan. He and his burned hands were the figurehead of the resistance cell, but he wasn’t an organizer. Ganna screamed as her friend slumped against her. She recognized Kylo now, her pleading eyes met his, and he felt every fiber of her guilt as it burned her inside and out. She would never forgive herself for giving her friends away to a spy. Kylo kept her body frozen, but he couldn’t keep her tears from falling. He felt less human than he ever had. Which was not a bad thing, he reminded himself. He reached down for the centering core of anger that should exist within him, but he found only shame and uncertainty. Weakness. 

“You might live, if you tell me what you know about the bombing,” he said to her, and lessened his grip on her face so she could talk. She spat in his direction before breaking into gasping sobs. “Ganna,” he said, more urgently, “ _tell me what you know,_ or I will take it from you.” 

She shook her head violently and closed her eyes against him. Kylo had no choice. He reached his hand out to her and drilled into her mind as deep as he could go. He could feel her consciousness splinter almost immediately and nearly recoiled, but he kept going until he found what he was looking for: they were planning another attack, this time on the refinery equipment itself. When he pulled his hand back, she was still breathing, but her mind was irreversibly broken and her body was slack. 

“Check the distillation unit for tampering. That’s where they were going to hit next,” he called to Phasma, who nodded. 

Kylo looked at Ganna’s empty eyes once more. When he ran her through with the saber, he told himself it was a mercy.

\--

When they got back to the Finalizer, it was already late. Kylo’s eyes ached from lack of sleep. Over the last year, the Finalizer had started to feel more familiar, if not comfortable. The clean scent and consistent 18 degree temperature was nice to return to, in its own way. Phasma took the Mirialan down to the interrogation chamber. That would be Kylo’s responsibility one day, but not yet. Instead, he reported directly to the Supreme Leader’s projection room to debrief. Snoke seemed not to sleep, always watchful and ready when Kylo messed up. But he had found the agitators, neutralized the current threat, and uncovered plans for further threats. Everything had gone according to plan. When he knelt on the chilled obsidian floor and the towering holo flickered to life, he felt only minimal fear. 

“Kylo Ren.” 

The booming voice resonated in Kylo’s chest. “Yes, Master. The mission on Maltha Obex was a success. We rooted out the insurgency and were able to prevent further attacks.”

Snoke said nothing at first, just looked down at Kylo consideringly. 

“Do you suppose, my apprentice, that I cannot perceive your failings? Your weaknesses?”

“No, Master,” Kylo said. His stomach was sinking fast. He wracked his brain for what he had done wrong. Was it his decision to leave the helmet in the ship? 

“Do you suppose I cannot tell when you have abandoned your calling in favor of running around like a Jedi?” Snoke spat the last word out and raised his hand. Kylo instinctively lowered himself to the ground. It was better to lay down by choice than to collapse. The lightning came from Snoke’s fingertips through time and space to course through every inch of Kylo’s body, lighting him up with burning, electrical pain that he would have described as unimaginable, a year ago. The only thing that made it bearable was knowing that Snoke would never find evidence of Hux in his mind. He had buried it too carefully, cut off from every possible association. Hux, at least, was safe.

“Do you think I am so stupid that I cannot discern your intentions? Your lack of conviction? Your compassion?” 

Three more bolts hit him, each as bright as the sun burning through his every nerve, but he kept his face impassive. He’d learned early on that screams and tears only encouraged the Supreme Leader. If he could stay quiet, his Master would grow bored quicker. 

“Perhaps it was a mistake to take you on as my apprentice,” Snoke continued, lifting Kylo off the floor now to his own eye level and bending his body backwards. “You were an unformed lump of clay, I assumed, full of possibility. Only when I began to sculpt did I realize the extent of your defects. The mighty Skywalker blood must run thin in your veins.” He released his hold and Kylo hit the ground hard. He quickly suppressed a moan and curled around his wrist, which felt broken.

Snoke laughed coldly. “Are you hurt, my apprentice? I give you this experience as raw material. Let it fuel you. Still, you are of little use to me with a broken body.” He extended a finger toward Kylo, who felt what seemed like burning wires wrapping around the fractured bone, fusing them fast together. It was excruciating, and he grit his teeth against the pain. “Bones are easily mended. Your scattered and meager talents...not so simple. But perhaps I am also guilty of compassion,” Snoke said, sitting back and waving at Kylo to dismiss him. “Tomorrow, we will begin your training anew.” 

“Thank you, Supreme Leader,” Kylo said, testing out the wrist. It felt solid, but still tender and painful. He got to his feet carefully, put his helmet back on, and made his way to the door as fast as he could without running. 

\--

When Kylo returned to his quarters, exhausted and hurting, he found Hux already asleep in his bed. He was curled up into a tight ball with a pillow at his back under the covers, and he was snoring lightly. Kylo felt a lump form in his throat at the sight. Hux spending the night at all, even when Kylo was there, was a recent development. It was a curious thing, watching Hux’s sharp edges soften over time. When Kylo first met him, he’d come across as a flat, stuck-up hardass who pretty much fit the Imperial archetype from childhood stories. But as they spent time together, Kylo started to notice small kindnesses from Hux: warnings about particular officers, extra medical supplies slipped into his pocket, offhand comments about surveillance blind spots as they walked the halls. He could always intuit when Kylo hadn’t slept well and would end their training a bit early, without saying anything in particular about it. Hux’s smiles were rare and hard-won, but they transformed his face into something brilliant, something Kylo wanted to protect. In private, even his mannerisms softened away from the rigid military standard. Still, he always slept like that, curled tight in a defensive posture against some unseen threat. 

Kylo kept the lights low as he undressed, not wanting to disturb Hux. Not wanting Hux to see the new marks that covered his body. He slid in next to him and buried his face in the back of Hux’s neck. Hux stirred slightly, then woke enough to turn over and drape an arm over Kylo’s chest.

“I wasn’t sure you’d be back tonight,” Hux murmured. “How did it go?”

“We found the insurgents. Two dead, one captured,” Kylo said. Which was still true, no matter how badly he’d fucked up otherwise.

“Well done,” Hux said, and kissed him. Kylo deepened the kiss, pulling Hux closer to him even as shame simmered in his belly. He didn’t deserve this. But Hux was already grinding his hips against Kylo’s, his breath coming in hot little huffs against Kylo’s lips. 

“So eager, Colonel,” Kylo whispered. “Couldn’t even wait for an invitation to my bed?” 

“Don’t flatter yourself,” Hux said, baring his neck for Kylo to kiss and bite. “The heat went out in my quarters.” 

“Mhm.” The back-and-forth was comforting, and the shame of the day’s failures started to drain away. Kylo reached over to the nightstand and uncapped the bottle of lube sitting there, then drizzled some over his fingers. He gripped the back of Hux’s neck with one hand and gradually opened him up with the other. It was easy to be the man Hux wanted. When he was fully ready, Kylo let him shift into position with his ass in the air and his face in the pillow. Hux preferred facing down or away because he was self-conscious, but Kylo wasn’t supposed to know that. He never quite meant to read Hux’s mind, but he’d accidentally acquired a substantial collection of private information about Hux over the last year. He eased in slowly, running his fingers over the smooth skin of Hux’s hips. 

“Did you miss me?” Kylo leaned down to kiss Hux’s freckled shoulders. 

“I— ah— I had plenty to keep me busy,” Hux said, faltering as Kylo bottomed out inside him. 

“That’s not what I asked,” Kylo said, wavering between annoyance and hurt. He knew from experience that Hux would equivocate until Kylo fucked him past the point of coherence, so he set to it. Anything to forget the rest of the day. He settled into a harsh, steady pace with his hips, dragging over Hux’s prostate with each stroke. Hux’s moans were muffled in the pillow, so Kylo grabbed a thick fistful of red hair and pulled his head up. 

“Let me hear you, Colonel,” Kylo said, as he drew Hux closer. “Don’t be shy.” 

“ _Fuck,_ Ren,” Hux said, breathless. 

The sweat on his skin made the fresh lightning burns sting, but Kylo ignored it. Every choked off _please_ and _yes_ and _oh_ _fuck_ from Hux fueled the possessive flame coursing through his veins. He flipped Hux over roughly onto his back before pushing back into him, no longer caring about Hux’s self-consciousness. He was flushed from his ears down to his chest, his mouth wantonly open, his hair soft and sticking out everywhere. Kylo thought he might come just from the sight, but he restrained himself. 

“Only I get to see you like this,” he growled. 

“Yes,” Hux gasped, “only you.” It was hard not to notice how much he loved that exclusivity: another thing Kylo wasn’t supposed to know. How badly Hux wished he had something of Kylo to himself. He wanted to tell Hux _of course I’m yours, how could you even question that?_ But he knew what Hux was really thinking of, and he couldn’t argue against it. 

Hux never bothered hiding that he hated Snoke, at least when they were alone. Anger started to prick at Kylo. His training was his only chance at worthiness, at happiness, at freedom, and Hux would have him give it all up. He had no idea how much Kylo had suffered to keep their relationship from Snoke, who had scoured every inch of Kylo’s mind, smoking out every weakness, every uncertainty and burning whatever he found. The effort of keeping Hux safe had cost Kylo dearly, but still, Hux wanted more of him. _How much would you have me sacrifice for you?_ he wanted to ask. _Why isn’t this enough?_

Hux was moaning openly now, any pretense of composure long gone. His hand sought his own cock, but Kylo grabbed both wrists and pinned them against the bed. He flinched when his own newly-healed wrist bore his weight, but he shifted so Hux wouldn’t notice. He channeled his anger into a spitefully slow pace, easing in and out with deceptive gentleness. 

“ _Ren_.” Hux twisted in frustration, but Kylo didn’t release him. 

“Not yet,” Kylo said, softly mocking. “First, you need to learn to appreciate what you have.”

Denying Hux felt good. 

“Please, Ren,” Hux begged, thoroughly wrecked now, down to his ragged, breathy voice. It was hard to reconcile the high-ranking soldier who conquered worlds and built vast machines of war with the trusting, blissed-out creature underneath him.“Let me come.” 

“Do you think you deserve it?” An honest question, past his lips before he could stop it. 

_Do I deserve it?_

Hux’s relaxed features twitched into annoyance. “What kind of bloody question is that?” 

“Sorry. Never mind.” As an apology, Kylo quickened his pace again and took Hux’s cock in hand. Hux cried out at the sensation, which nearly undid Kylo. Thoughts of the outside world fled, and he felt the heat of orgasm building deep in his core. For the first time that day, there was only Hux: his arched back, his freckled shoulders, his soft hair, and yes, his hand on Kylo’s neck, pulling him down into an open-mouth kiss where he moaned brokenly, his cock spilling into Kylo’s hand and onto his stomach. Kylo came almost immediately after, unable to withstand the force of Hux’s pleasure as it bled into him. 

He collapsed onto his side and they lay there, breathing heavily. The brief reprieve from shame was over, though. An image of the Bothan’s chemical-scarred hands appeared in his mind. He heard Ganna’s anguished, guilty sobs again. The sound of his own wrist cracking, a punishment for his horrific failure. It wouldn’t even occur to Hux to feel guilt for his actions within the Order, that much was abundantly clear. He was coldly, blissfully uncaring about the blood on his hands. Hux trusted that Kylo was strong enough to feel the same. He had no idea how ill-placed that trust was. How badly Kylo had failed. How unworthy he was of Hux’s affection. 

“What’s wrong with me, Hux?” The question was fragile, almost inaudible in the still darkness. But Hux sighed next to him, as if pained, so he must have heard it. He reached over and combed his fingers through Kylo’s sweat-damp hair. 

“Ben...” 

Kylo stiffened. Hux only called him that when he didn’t know what else to say. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Kylo breaks someone's mind during an interrogation and murders a couple of people; Snoke physically tortures Kylo, including breaking a bone. 
> 
> Thanks for reading! Comments always welcome!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everything falls apart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See endnotes for chapter-specific warnings.

Hux pushed the memories away. Anger felt better than grief. Ren often insisted that his old self was dead, and Hux readily agreed, knowing that some small part of Ren wanted him not to. 

In the five years they were sleeping together, Ren had grown stronger, both physically and in the Force. As his power grew, so did his rage. In conciliatory moments, Ren tried to excuse it as some entropic, dark side, mystical bullshit. Hux was never really paying attention. He knew exactly what it was: Ren was being worn down by abuse. 

Snoke sent Ren away on mission after mission, for months at a time, and each time he came back hollowed out and angry, his natural charisma eroding to the point that Hux could barely recognize the man he had fallen for. At first Ren’s fury was directed only at himself, but eventually, it bled over onto Hux as well. Any more murmurs of “Ben,” even in their most private moments, were out of the question. Hux knew that Ren was unraveling. Even the wrong look at the wrong time could set Ren off on a stream of accusations, as it had tonight.

It started earlier that evening, when Ren came into Hux's office on the Finalizer without knocking. Hux was sitting at his desk, absorbed in a document about a possible vulnerability on Starkiller's thermal oscillator. It was a concerning report, and he barely looked up when Ren entered.

"Do you want to get dinner?" Ren asked.

"No," Hux said, distracted. "Too much to do tonight," he added, too late. Ren was already offended.

"Well, fuck me for thinking you might want to see me before I leave. I'm going to Jakku tonight," Ren said.

"Why," said Hux. It was barely a question.

"We got a tip about the location of the Skywalker map. Or at least a piece of it," Ren said. Hux grit his teeth. The Luke Skywalker nonsense was so tiresome that Hux was certain he’d shoot the man dead himself if he ever saw him, just so he wouldn’t have to hear Ren talk about it anymore. It was all meaningless anyway, just Snoke whipping Ren up into a frenzy over nothing, as usual, to keep him exhausted and compliant. Keeping Ren’s anger focused on some old fool rather than allowing him a moment to stop and think about the torture he was currently being subjected to. Hux had all but given up trying to point it out. So he said nothing.

"Is there something you want to say, Hux?" Ren said dangerously.

"No. Best of luck to you on Jakku." He would not rise to this bait. Ren sat down on Hux's sofa, annoyed, and stared at the wall in silence for several minutes. Hux tried to go back to reading, but Ren's petulance was distracting. "Not hungry anymore?" he asked, carefully not looking up.

"No. I recently learned that food isn't important. I can subsist on data, like you."

Hux set down the datapad. "We are firing the weapon in three days. I need you here. Can this errand not wait?"

"It's not an errand! And what do you need me here for? I can't use the Force to write your speech or whatever else you have to do."

"Stop being dense," Hux said, hating that Ren was making him admit this, " _I need you_. Me."

Ren's expression softened a moment, seemingly chastened. Hux wished he would come over and touch him, but Ren didn't do that kind of thing anymore.

"Oh," Ren said. "Well, I can’t. Finding this map is crucial. Snoke says that once Skywalker is eliminated, I'll finally--"

"Be free? Find happiness?” Hux sneered. “Those things are propaganda tools, Ren. They don't exist. Snoke has you chasing after ghosts."

“You don’t understand the Force, Hux,” Ren stood up, his anger returning. “I might as well be explaining engineering to a bowl of oatmeal.”

“I don’t have to understand the Force to see what he’s doing to you.” Hux raised his voice. “Do you really not see how badly he’s fucked you up?”

“I have always been fucked up," Ren's voice was low and deadly, "In ways you, of all people, could have understood if you had ever bothered to try.”

“I have done nothing but try to understand you for years! You punish me for it!”

It was an old argument, so compulsive and familiar that it was almost a comfort to retread it. Still, the sex that usually followed almost made the fighting worth it. It was the only thing that would quiet the storm, bridging bright anger into passion into an exhausted truce. In the low glow of ship’s dawn, Ren would write his apology on Hux’s neck with his lips, and Hux would caress his acceptance into Ren’s hair with careful fingers. Hux surprised himself with his willingness to forgive. Love, he supposed. 

Not tonight, though. Ren stormed out and left for Jakku, leaving Hux so furious that he could barely focus on what he was reading. He knew that the old Ren was not coming back. But even as the new Ren grew more volatile and the moments of tenderness became sparser, there was one sacred certainty: he would never harm Hux. Even when their fights got so out of control that Ren’s power made the whole room shake, Hux never feared him. 

\--

The next several days passed brutally and relentlessly. Hux felt like his skin had been stripped off, each new devastation burning away at his exposed nerves. His life's work, the planet he stood upon, shaking apart under his feet and threatening to swallow up the person he loved felt too cruel to comprehend. It was all so... literal. Like in the old Arkanian tragedies, when a hero offended the gods and was punished. Not that Hux was ever a hero. 

When he ran from the clearing where the shuttle was hovering to find Ren in the woods, he watched it happening from outside his body. A tall, red-haired man dressed in black, Hux-but-not-Hux, was running through the trees. It couldn't really be Hux, because Hux was looking down on this scene from somewhere up in the treeline. No, that was someone else down there, sliding to his knees next to Ren, hovering his hands over Ren's open wounds, unsure what to do. It had to be, because Hux was never that pale and frightened-looking. Hux had better control of himself. He could remember the smell, though, of Ren's exposed wound. That awful coppery blood scent. And there was so much of it, melting the snow beside Ren. It seemed unlike him to strip off his coat and try to press it against Ren's side while saying "No, no, no," but that's what he saw himself doing. The weather-resistant gaberwool of his coat didn't do much to stop the bleeding, and he left it behind in the snow when he and a stormtrooper pull Ren bodily onto the shuttle. 

Ren was pale and his pulse was thready, but the medical droid onboard was able to stabilize him somewhat. As the droid worked to replenish Ren’s fluids and contain the mess of tissue in his side, Hux turned to the remaining two troopers.

“I will continue to oversee Lord Ren’s stabilization. Do not disturb me unless there are further emergencies. You are dismissed.” As soon as the door shut behind them, he sank into the chair next to the gurney and gripped Ren’s hand as hard as he could. Ren did not squeeze back. 

\--

Hux forced himself back into his role when they arrived back at the Finalizer. There was too much to do. He couldn't even accompany Ren to medbay. His black uniform hid the bloodstains fairly well, but the smell only grew more sweetly vile as the blood aged. No one gave him a second look for it; the whole Finalizer had the same stench. Hux didn’t think he’d ever get it out of his nose. 

When he finally got a moment to visit medbay, later that night at the start of his rest cycle, the hallway outside the facility was lined with troopers and techs on gurneys, some conscious and groaning and begging for water, some not. Hux passed one young woman who appeared to be dead. Most of the medical resources had gone toward saving officers. Hux had given that order.

He made his way through the chaos of the main triaging area into the back, where a private room was tucked away with the door closed. Ren was curled on his good side, facing the far wall. Seeing him alive and awake unclenched something in Hux’s chest. He sat on the edge of the bed and finally allowed his shoulders to slump. Ren did not react to the mattress shifting. 

“You’re awake. That’s good,” Hux said. Ren shuddered. He was weeping, Hux realized. Part of him wanted nothing more than to lie down and hold Ren, but then he’d start weeping too, and there wasn’t time. “We are on our way to link up with the Supremacy. I hope you have your story straight.” 

“I did what I had to.” Ren’s voice was thick. 

“And what might that have been? If you hadn’t noticed, we lost quite badly. Snoke will want answers.”

“I don’t want to say it,” Ren said. Hux knew what he was suggesting. He hated the sensation of being in Ren’s mind and rarely allowed it. But he also didn’t have the energy to go back and forth about it today. A fight might break them both right now. 

“Fine,” Hux said, and pulled Ren’s hand up to his forehead, waiting for it. The Force was a dreadful thing. He couldn’t fathom why anyone would dedicate their life to it. It always felt like plunging into icy water. He held his breath and squeezed his eyes shut. When he opened them, he was seeing the world through Ren’s eyes. The gaping maw of the oscillator was directly beneath him, and an older man stood directly facing him. He could feel a sickening push-pull of dread and longing in his stomach when he looked at the man. He blinked, and Ren’s saber was in the man’s chest. He felt Ren’s breath, ragged in his own throat, and the pit of irrevocability in his chest. To his shock, the man reached out and touched Ren’s cheek, even as he was bleeding and struggling to stand. Oh. This must have been Ren’s father. He took one last curious look at the older man’s face as Ren’s hand gently tipped him over the edge, then he was sucked back through the icy curtain of the Force and back in medbay. Ren was crying harder now. 

“I’m sorry, Ren.” Hux placed his hand on Ren’s shoulder. “I know it’s not easy.” 

Hux had a history with this complicated flavor of grief. Even though every detail had been meticulously planned, fueled by a lifetime of dreaming and planning, Hux had never anticipated the night of wrenchingly painful sobbing following Brendol’s funeral, when the waves of relief finally crashed over him and purged out everything that came before. Ren had held Hux so tightly that it hurt, as if he were the only thing keeping Hux from shaking into a million pieces. And he was. 

That was years ago, though, when Ren could still tolerate “Ben.” Hux couldn’t quite bring himself to provide the same comfort to this Ren now, who might push him away if he tried. But he kept his hand on Ren’s shoulder, and for a brief moment there was peace. 

Then his brain caught up to what he had just seen. 

"Wait.” Hux’s eyes narrowed. “Why were you at the oscillator? How did you end up in the woods?"

Ren wiped his eyes. "Isn’t it obvious? Han Solo and my-- his co-conspirators were trying to disable it."

"And you let them?" Hux's voice was rising. He was starting to piece together a horrifying picture of betrayal. 

"No! You're not listening, I was trying to stop them."

“And you lost consciousness when you were shot, right? Please tell me you did. Please tell me you didn’t just chase them off without bothering to disarm the bombs first,” Hux begged, knowing it was useless. Ren wasn’t looking at him. “Ren. Tell me this wasn’t all your fault.”

“My orders were clear,” he said softly. “I can’t be everywhere.” 

"No, be honest. Eliminating insurgents and defusing explosives is child’s play for you. You did not kill your father to stop him blowing up the base. You did it because you thought it would fix you,” Hux snarled. “Tell me, Ren, do you feel better, now that Daddy is dead?" 

Ren's face crumpled. "No."

"No, you don't," Hux said. He felt like he was going to be sick. "Take it from someone who knows: patricide will not fix you. Snoke will not fix you. I cannot fix you.” Ren had stilled. But Hux didn’t care how deep he was cutting. “Did it ever cross your mind, what losing Starkiller might mean to me? You know what, not even that. I know that's too much for you. Did you, even for a moment, stop to think about what your fucking Master would do to me if I lost the base?" Hux was near-wild with grief and fury when it hit him: "You don't give a shit about me. I’m going to die because you couldn’t be bothered to take out some explosives. On a base you’ve seen me working to build for nearly as long as you’ve known me. What other message could I possibly take from that, Ren?” 

Ren was staring at him with a stupid, wounded expression. Hux had never seen him lost for words before, but he wasn’t willing to wait until Ren found his voice again. He didn’t want to hear it. He walked out of the room knowing that it was unfixable. 

\--

Hux ducked into an alcove stacked with linens and took a moment to blink away angry tears and steady his breathing. Now his only job was to lead the Order, for as long as he remained alive. That, at least, was manageable. He took the hole in his heart and pressed it down out of sight. Thinking of Ren for even one more moment would be a waste of his fast-dwindling time. He smoothed his hair and tucked strays behind his ears, then strode back out into the open triage area. 

To his surprise, Lieutenant Mitaka was sitting on one of the exam benches, working on a data pad while evidently waiting for treatment. Mitaka had no reason to be injured; he wasn’t even stationed on Starkiller. The prospect of a solvable problem was appealing, so Hux approached him. Mitaka brightened slightly when he looked up and saw him.

“What are you doing here, Lieutenant?” Hux asked. 

“Oh, there was an... incident, Sir. I already submitted my report, but it’s low priority. Nothing to be concerned about,” Mitaka said. He was always pleasant to talk to, always cheerful. Hux liked that about him. 

“I’ll be the judge of that. What happened?” 

Now Mitaka shifted uncomfortably. Hux noticed bruises on his neck. “Well, Sir, I was delivering a report to a member of senior command, and there was a bit of an altercation.”

Something dropped in Hux’s stomach, but he kept his expression steady. “What member of senior command?” 

“Um. It was Kylo Ren, Sir.” Mitaka looked down as if ashamed. “He was displeased with the message I delivered regarding the loss of the BB-unit, and he dragged me across the floor and choked me with… however he does it.”

Hux’s face and resolve hardened. Ren had been snappish with the staff for a long time, but actually assaulting them was new. There was no saving Ren, and he would not sacrifice himself or his staff any longer. 

“I am sorry that happened to you, Lieutenant. That is completely unacceptable, and I will see to it that measures are taken. Are you badly hurt?”

“Oh, no, Sir. I was not planning to seek medical attention at all, given the current circumstances,” he nodded to the chaos around them, “but I did hit my head on the way down and breathing has become rather painful. I expect I’ll be waiting a while, but no matter, I have plenty to keep me occupied,” he smiled and picked up the data pad at his side. Hux decided he was going to do something to reward Mitaka. A commendation, or maybe a promotion. Mitaka was a good soldier, Hux told himself, and morale was important. 

“Very good. Keep me apprised of your condition, please, and let me know if you will require any accommodations moving forward.”

Hux heard a “thank you, Sir,” behind him, but he was already turned and on his way out. 

From there, Hux went straight to Ren’s quarters to collect his possessions, wanting to get everything out of there while Ren was still in medbay. There wasn’t much, just a bag’s worth of clothing, a few toiletries, and one framed drawing of his, an early prototype of Ren’s TIE Silencer. It was Ren’s spacecraft, but Hux’s drawing, so he felt justified in claiming it. He supposed he could hang it in his office, now. He was struck by how little of himself was in the room, after spending the majority of his nights there for five years. Even when Ren was away, Hux would often sleep here. It seemed to him that a permanent resident ought to leave more of an impression, but there was nothing. No design choices, no personal effects, no clutter. Ren, on the other hand, had left his mark on the room. Hux wandered over to the pedestal with Darth Vader’s twisted helmet atop it, something he had protested vehemently when it first came into Ren’s possession. Its arrival had driven Hux back to his own quarters for a couple nights, but he found his way back eventually. Hux briefly considered tipping the damned thing over, but decided against it. That was a Ren thing to do. So he left the room untouched and locked the door behind him, with his one bag and his framed drawing under his arm. 

He only had a couple hours left in his rest cycle, so he supposed he might as well get a little sleep. His own neglected quarters were on the other end of the officer’s dormitory block, so he headed there. He keyed in the door code, hit the lights, dropped his bag of clothes on a chair, and took the room in anew. If Ren’s quarters were sparse, Hux’s were sterile. He struggled to remember the last time he had spent any time there, beyond grabbing something and leaving again. At least this room did not have the blood smell that the rest of the ship had. Which reminded him that he was still covered in Ren’s dried blood. It felt like it must have been weeks since the rescue, but it had been a scant twenty hours, not even a full cycle. He undressed and put the soiled uniform straight into the garbage chute, then showered. 

When he emerged from the fresher in shorts and a clean undershirt, Hux was feeling a little better. He sat on the bed (his bed) and brushed his fingers over the sheets. They were technically clean; the service droid would have come in and changed them after the last time he slept here, but they felt stale and musty. He could order the droid back to do a linen change now, but somehow he couldn’t stand the thought of anyone other than him making changes to his quarters. So Hux stood back up and stripped off the old sheets, then retrieved fresh ones from the closet. Muscle memory from his academy days did not fail him, and he found it mildly gratifying to smooth the creases from the topsheet and fold the blanket edges in with military precision. At least now the room had something of him in it. 

He turned the lights to zero, then slid under the covers. The sheets were crisp and cold on his bare arms and legs. The chill reminded him of medbay… of Ren, also alone in a strange bed. His chest felt hot and hollow, but it didn’t warm him. He thought again of the old man, and how he had touched Ren’s face before he died. Ren hardly ever spoke about his father, but Hux knew that Han Solo was nothing like Brendol. Solo loved his son. It must have been a nasty shock to see what he’d turned into. 

Hux pulled his knees up closer to his body. In the moment, he had been too hurt to care how cruel he was, to keep himself from tearing away at Ren’s most vulnerable spots, but he felt it keenly now. His breath hitched in this throat. The first tear dripped over his nose onto the pillow, and others soon followed. Another way to mark the room as his, he thought bitterly. He wasn’t even sure who he was crying for, himself or Ren. Either way, tears felt insultingly insufficient. In all his unhappy imaginings over the past months, he never pictured it ending quite like this. 

When Hux died, maybe tomorrow, maybe the next day, would Ren even mourn him? 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> content warning: blood, death of minor unnamed characters
> 
> If you'd like to read a quick oneshot about Hux dealing with Brendol's death in this verse, [here it is!](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23304832)
> 
> Thanks for reading, any and all comments welcome!


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kylo makes some rash decisions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's where we start getting a bit more canon-divergent, friends! 
> 
> See endnotes for chapter specific warnings.

Kylo checked himself out of medbay, against medical advice, the following morning. The harsh lights and constant in-and-out of droids and doctors had kept him from sleeping. It would take only a day’s travel to reach the rendezvous point with Snoke’s ship, the Supremacy, and he needed to get his head straight before that. More than anything, he wanted quiet and solitude. He reached for his helmet without thinking, then remembered. His hooded cloak was gone too, so there was no hiding his marred face. He could hardly bring himself to care. He pulled his filthy boots on, shrugged an extra hospital gown over his shoulders against the chill, and walked down the halls to his quarters. 

His bed was empty. Hux’s section of the closet was empty. His toothbrush gone from the sink. The whole room felt devoid of something vital, as if Hux had taken the soul from it when he left. Kylo sank onto the bed. He really shouldn’t have been up; the wound in his side felt hot and exposed, even through the painkillers. He deserved it, though. He deserved everything. He arranged himself gingerly on his back and toed his boots off, one at a time. 

He managed a couple hours of fitful sleep before resolving to meditate, still lying in bed, as a compromise. Dark side meditation should be focused on sharpening points of anger, but more than anything Kylo felt numbly empty. Where he usually found flinty embers of rage that he could channel into power, now he saw a vast vortex. He wondered what would happen if he threw himself into it. He reached a hand out toward the blackness and felt around for anything he could grasp and use, but found nothing but a cold vacuum: aching, dull, futureless. Hopelessness could not be sharpened into a weapon. This wasn’t the Dark side. This felt closer to something else...

_ There is no emotion, there is peace.  _

What a lie. The closest he’d ever experienced to peace was simply being around Hux, and that was the furthest thing from emotionless. In those early days with the Order, his only task was to follow Hux around like a puppy, and he had done it willingly. He tried to chase down those memories and pin them with his focus, but they slipped from his grasp like smoke. He could only catch the barest flickers of sensation: the clean scent of Hux’s hair, the soft huff of his whisper in Kylo’s ear, the taste of him on Kylo’s tongue, Hux’s fine-boned hands gripping his thighs or his shoulders. They were intoxicating, but not enough to bring any real measure of relief. 

Both sides of the Force failed him. Hux was right: there was no fixing him. Kylo let himself float aimlessly in the darkness of the indifferent Force, thinking nothing for minutes or hours. His spirit ached dully. He’d never felt so alone. 

Then the air stilled, as if the whole galaxy had gone quiet. Kylo felt every molecule thrumming silently in the Force, their eternal dance upset by some external disturbance. This wasn’t right. He opened his eyes and reached out for his saber, which flew neatly into his hand. 

There, standing in the corner of the room near the fresher door, was the scavenger girl from the forest. Rey. Kylo leapt to his feet. She looked just as confused as he felt, but she recovered faster. She pulled her blaster from her belt and shot him in the stomach. Kylo grunted and doubled over, but the pain dissipated quickly. When he looked down there was no mark, no rip in his shirt, no sign at all of a bullet. He looked back up at her, startled, and saw shock on her face as well. Whatever was happening, it was a rare chance, and he gathered his composure. 

“You will bring Luke Skywalker to me,” he commanded. She just stared furiously at him. Oh, right. That hadn’t worked last time he tried it, either. 

“You’re going to pay for what you did,” she said, her face contorted in anger. 

“You assume I haven’t already,” he snapped. His lightsaber was activated, but something stayed his hand, as it had in the forest. There was something undeniable about her, and he’d felt it since the first time he saw her. The burning fury in her was the mirror image of his own, and he was too curious to snuff it out without learning more. 

Rey paused, then frowned. “You look terrible.”

Kylo blinked. “Yeah. You slashed my face in half.”

“No, it’s not that. You look really,  _ really _ awful.” She, for her part, looked as bright and fierce as ever. 

“I-- okay,” he said lamely. They stood silently across from each other for a few awkward moments, each surprised that the other wasn’t moving to attack. He could at least read that much of her emotions in the Force, but not much else. “Where are you? I can’t see your surroundings.”

“How stupid do you think I am?” she said, glancing around. “I can see yours. Is this your room? You have a room to yourself, and this is what you’ve done with it?”

“What’s wrong with it?” he said, more annoyed than angry. He thumbed the lightsaber off, but kept it close at hand. A show of trust could play to his advantage, but it wouldn’t do to let his guard down completely. 

“All I’m saying is, if I had a room, I’d make it a little cozier.” She grimaced and rested her hand against the cool, bare durasteel wall. 

“I… I had a drawing hanging on that wall until recently,” Kylo said. He was unsure why he felt the need to defend himself, let alone with such a personal piece of information. She wasn’t coercing it out of him.

“Something you drew?”

“No. My um... My partner drew it,” he said quietly. Hux hated that term. Hux hated “boyfriend” too, and “relationship.” He only ever obliquely referred to “our situation” or, if pushed, “our arrangement.” But Hux wasn’t around, so Kylo could use whatever word he wanted.

The girl’s eyebrows raised, and she stifled a laugh. “Took it with him when he left, did he? Poor sod. Bet you put him through hell.” 

The words went through Kylo like a knife, and he turned his head to hide the tears in his eyes. 

“Oh,” she said, her laughter quickly extinguished. “Oh, I see.”

Kylo swiped at his eyes and swallowed hard. He wished she would just leave.

“Well, don’t just sit there feeling sorry for yourself. I don’t feel sorry for you,” she continued, crossing her arms. He could feel the caress of her Force energy like curious fingers palpating the edges of his misery, trying to get a read on him. He didn’t see any reason to hide anything from her; she’d beaten him, and if this is what she chose as her war spoils, that was her mistake to make. His pride had been ground to dust. So he offered it all up freely: how he and Hux had let each other down so terribly, the cruel words between them, Snoke’s training and how much Hux hated it. When he got to Han, she inhaled sharply, but didn’t pull back. He let her see the final words between them, the grief and the all-consuming guilt. Maybe it felt good just to be seen. Hux had been blind to his pain for a long time. 

“I don’t feel sorry for you. Not even a little,” she repeated, but underneath her anger, her voice was wavering. Her sorrow was all for Han, though. 

“Good,” he said sullenly. He didn’t need her pity. It wouldn’t undo anything he’d done. Pity wouldn’t show him a way forward. 

“What are you going to do now?” 

He looked at her helplessly. “What would you do?” 

“Try to atone for my actions, I suppose,” Rey said. “Try to be a better person, live a better life...right old wrongs wherever I could. What else can you do?”

He nodded silently. A terrifying thought occurred to him, too frightening to even fully voice to himself. He filed it away. 

“Look after the Falcon, okay?” he said. Tears filled her eyes, and she nodded. Her body shimmered momentarily, like a flickering holo, then she was gone. 

\--

Kylo spent the rest of the day and most of the following one in bed. He had no appetite, but managed to take a few sips of water here and there when his throat was dry. He barely slept. The unspeakable thought dogged him.

Every time he laid his head down and closed his eyes, he saw Snoke’s head lying on the floor of his throne room, with his body still propped up upon the throne. He felt the coiled intention in his limbs. He could smell the seared flesh. The muscles in his saber-arm thrummed with blood and desire, as if the Force itself were conspiring to strengthen him. 

There was a second image, too, even more wildly hopeful than the first. He saw himself presenting Snoke’s head to Hux, and Hux would immediately understand that Kylo did it for him, that he was sorry for it all. He would kiss Kylo and apologize too, and then together they would lead the galaxy to lasting peace and order. Hux would thrive with the power Kylo gave him, and they would be happy together. He imagined Hux in red robes, then black, then purple, then white, always with a stark gold crown upon his head, setting off his red hair. Kylo would rip those robes off every night. 

But killing Snoke was impossible. Kylo was nowhere near strong enough even at his peak, and now in his weakened, injured state, he stood no chance. Snoke would slay him where he stood. 

Although, dying in the attempt wouldn’t be the worst thing, either. 

\-- 

When he entered Snoke’s throne room onboard the Supremacy the following night, Kylo had fully decided against killing him. He was too weak, and the risks were too great. Still, he had felt sick with fear over the meeting. Snoke would be able to smell his own blood in Kylo’s mind. Kylo had taken great care to bundle up the thoughts and lock them away carefully, the same way he had protected his love for Hux all those years. 

Snoke eyed him from across the wide hall. From his kneeling position, Kylo pressed down harder on his traitorous thoughts, but his heart was still beating like a jackrabbit. 

“You are troubled, Kylo Ren. I can the disturbances in your spirit. Come closer, child,” Snoke ordered. Kylo rose to his feet and approached the Supreme Leader, then settled again several meters from the throne. “No. Closer. Let me look at you.” This time Snoke pulled him bodily with the Force until Kylo was within arm’s reach. He bent down, elbows on knees, and grabbed Kylo’s chin with his knobbed fingers, his sharp nails digging into the tender scar on Kylo’s face. 

“You have failed me yet again,” he hissed.

It felt like a slap. Despite his efforts to control himself, anger jumped into Kylo’s throat. “I’ve given all I have to the Dark side. I did everything you asked, no matter the cost.” He had never spoken to the Supreme Leader like that before, and flinched in anticipation. But Snoke only tilted Kylo’s chin higher, until he was forced to make eye contact. 

“Such insolence, such ignorance. If that were true, you would be stronger. Look at you. Full of fear and sorrow, yet without the spirit to channel it.” He shook his head. “Such a waste.” Snoke stopped and sniffed. He released Kylo’s chin, then his fingers wandered up to Kylo’s temple. 

“What is this…” he muttered. Kylo froze. “You have… deceit in your heart.”

“No, Master--” Kylo pleaded, but Snoke was already in deep, furrowing rivets into his mind, burning a path to his goal. The pain was too great to keep talking.

“You’ve been…  _ breeding _ with my General!” 

Kylo was sure his heart stopped. Hux. He had been so focused on concealing his traitorous thoughts that he had left their relationship exposed, had left  _ Hux _ exposed. He scrambled to come up with a cover, an alternate explanation, an excuse, anything that would divert Snoke’s wrath.

“No, please--”

“You’ve been rutting with him for years, under my nose? How dare you make a fool of me! I’ll cure you of this distraction and kill him right now!” Snoke raised his hand in a gnarled fist, ready to choke the life out of Hux from miles away.

The Dark side surged in Kylo so suddenly and powerfully that he barely knew what he was doing. In one fluid motion, he unsheathed his lightsaber, ignited it, and cleaved Snoke’s head from his body. It rolled onto the floor with a sickening thud, a look of shock frozen on its bloodless face. 

Kylo stared at the head. He had time only to think  _ it shouldn’t have been that easy, _ before he dropped to his hands and knees and started violently dry-heaving. He hadn’t eaten anything since they fired Starkiller, so nothing came up. He sat back on the floor, shivering, and wrapped his arms around his knees. 

Snoke’s two purple-robed alien attendants, the Navigators, regarded him neutrally from their spot in the corner. Ever remote, their main focus was the Oculus device, which they used to view distant points in time and space. They wouldn’t attack him. Kylo wasn’t sure if they were loyal to Snoke or coerced into service, but without them, the whole fleet would drift aimlessly into the Unknown Regions. Once, after several glasses of wine, Hux had told him about those early days of the Order, before Snoke arrived with the Navigators, when starvation and running out of fuel and oxygen were real threats. Kylo had held Hux and promised that would never happen again. 

“Will you stay?” he choked out. They tilted their small heads curiously at him, then turned back to the Oculus. That would have to be good enough, for now. He gathered up the head and left the throne room.

“Get this to General Hux,” he barked, thrusting the head into the hands of a horrified officer posted outside the door. It would be better, he thought, to give Hux a little space before approaching him with his offer. “This is normal,” he added, turning back to the officer. “You feel no need to tell anyone what you have seen here. Just find a box for it.” The man’s face relaxed and he tucked the head under his arm before sauntering off down the empty hallway with it. 

\--

Kylo took his time approaching Hux. He would have been due to meet with the Supreme Leader sometime after Kylo, so hopefully the officer reached him before then. Kylo returned to his quarters on the Finalizer for a while and lay staring at the ceiling. He forced himself to eat a nutrient bar, which he promptly threw up. The wound in his side was still feeling hot and sharp, but he didn’t have any more painkillers. Around midnight, he put himself back together and left for Hux’s quarters. They were empty, so he tried Hux’s office next. 

When Kylo opened the door, Hux was hunched over his desk, typing something on his datapad. Kylo waited in the doorway for him to say something, but Hux didn’t even look up, so Kylo entered and stood near the desk.

“You’re working late,” he said. 

“Yes,” Hux said tersely. 

“Did you receive my gift?” 

“Yes.” Hux still hadn’t looked up from his datapad. This wasn’t the reception Kylo was expecting. 

“I did it for you,” Kylo said, to prompt him when there was no further reply. 

“Was that supposed to be a bouquet of flowers? I’m sorry, Ren. It’s too little, far too late.” 

“Hux, look at me,” Kylo said, increasingly alarmed. Hux sighed and met Kylo’s eyes. He looked tired, his face pale and drawn. His angles looked sharper, even his shoulders looked narrower, as if he were slowly collapsing in on himself. It was frightening to see Hux so defeated. Kylo’s heart was in his throat as he said, “I’m asking you to join me.”

“What, as your consort?” Hux’s laugh was low and bitter. “No. I will not earn the throne on my back. You’ve convinced yourself you want it, now? Fine. Take it. But do watch yourself carefully, because I am nothing if not patient... Supreme Leader.”

The title nearly knocked the wind out of Kylo. He sank down into the chair opposite Hux and stared at him in disbelief. He remembered with a rush that he didn’t actually want any of it: the power, the title, the throne. He didn’t want to lead. He just wanted Hux. 

“Please, Hux...” he whispered shakily. “Please, I need you, I don’t want to do this alone!”

“Don’t beg, Supreme Leader. It’s unseemly,” Hux said, in that politely detached voice he reserved for superiors he hated. 

It was too much. Kylo put his head in his hands and cried. Lost, heartbroken sobs that pulled at the wound in his side. He knew better than to hope for the brush of Hux’s fingers in his hair, but he still wanted it so badly it physically hurt. Hux was never skilled with comfort, to the point that Kylo had gotten angry with him over it in the past, but he’d take anything now. A word, a touch, even just a look. Sitting there crying in front of Hux in silence was humiliating. When he looked up, he saw Hux staring at the wall, pursing and unpursing his lips, as if he were trying to keep emotions of his own at a distance. Hux glanced at him, then quickly away again. 

“I’ll leave you the room, Supreme Leader,” he said. He gathered his things under one arm and was out the door in three long strides, leaving Kylo alone in the office. 

As the door clicked shut, Kylo’s lightsaber was ignited and already halfway through Hux’s desk. It would be so much easier to hate Hux. He thrashed and chopped at the pieces of the desk, fanning furiously at the little embers of hatred. They didn’t catch. He did hate this desk, though. It had spent a lot more time with Hux than he had, in the past year. He could feel his wound reopening and seeping into the bandages that wrapped around his torso, but he didn’t care. When the desk and the chair were reduced to a smoldering pile of durasteel rubble, he tossed the saber on the floor and sank down against the wall until his long legs folded. He closed his eyes and rested his face in the crook of his elbow as he tried to get his breathing under control. 

There had to be a way out of this. He couldn’t be the Supreme Leader. 

“What  _ happened? _ ”

The voice startled him, but he recognized it instantly. Rey was crouched down at eye level, next to the pile of rubble that had been Hux’s furniture. Her piercing gaze intensified his shame and humiliation. Her voice reminded him of all the times his mother caught him red-handed next to some destroyed object, shocked and wary. His mother probably loved Rey. 

“I fucked up,” he said, hollow. 

“What did you do?” 

Again this time, he felt compelled to treat her as a confessor. He could no sooner lie to her or lash out at her than he could get out of the impossible position he’d put himself in. She’d succeeded everywhere he failed, after all, in battle and within his family. 

“I killed my master. I’m the Supreme Leader now.” Saying it out loud still felt unreal. Rey did not react immediately, just chewed on the inside of her lip. 

Then she slowly reached out her hand toward him. Kylo stared at her. She rested her hand on his shoulder, cautious but not fearful. Her touch was light at first, barely there, but then she gave him a reassuring squeeze. Kylo leaned into it. 

“You can choose your own path, now. It’s not too late,” she said.

“It is,” he said quietly. 

As he spoke, cracks started to show in the durasteel walls. Rey looked around, alarmed, as panels of steel sloughed off into nothing to show roughly hewn stone and bundles of thatch. The floor eroded into hard-packed soil and flagstone.The air changed too, became warmer and more moist, with a whiff of saltwater. Birdcalls came in through the open windows. They weren’t in Hux’s office at all anymore, but some kind of rough hut. And standing in the doorway of that hut, was him.

Luke Skywalker.

The man who was responsible for everything that had gone wrong in Kylo’s life. The ebbing anger inside of him roared back to life like a jet engine, and for the first time in days, it was aimed at someone other than himself. The swirl of rage and terror and hatred forged itself into a poisoned blade, hungry for blood. His lightsaber felt alive in his shaking hand. Luke must have felt it, too, because he raised his hands in a gesture of peace.

“Ben. I am so sorry. Can we just talk?” he said. “Rey, come here.” Rey took a step back from Kylo but looked uncertain.

“It’s too late to talk,” Kylo snapped. 

“What are you sorry for?” Rey looked at Luke.

“Luke, what are you sorry for?” she asked again, an edge in her voice. 

Luke wasn’t going to have the chance to justify himself to her, Kylo decided. Snoke could have been telling the truth, after all; there was still a possibility that ending Skywalker would resolve the conflict in himself. This was a way out of the mess he’d made. This was his purpose. And more than almost anything, he wanted it. 

Kylo shoved Rey to the side and swung at Luke with everything he had, fully expecting his blow to land true and cleave the man in half. But that isn’t what happened. His blade swished clean through Luke without hitting him. Kylo reared back, stunned. 

Rey had touched him. Shouldn’t that extend to everyone else? He reached out again and stabbed Luke, same thing. Luke, for his part, looked as smug and pitying as ever. 

“I’m sorry I failed you, Ben.” Luke reached his hand out and the hut shattered, each chip of stone or roof or sky flaking off to reveal gray steel and bookshelves, until Kylo was left standing in Hux’s office again, alone and breathing hard. He pulled his comlink off his belt and pressed the button. 

“Prepare my ship.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> content warnings: vomiting, decapitation, brief/passive suicidal ideation
> 
> Thank you for reading! Any and all comments welcome.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Major Mitaka and General Hux adjust to their new positions.

Receiving the promotion to Major, along with General Hux’s personal citation for Acts of Bravery, had been the proudest moment of Dopheld Mitaka’s life. Donning the teal uniform never seemed to get old; each morning it still gave him that flutter of confidence, the sheen of worthiness. Though sometimes at night, when he was prone to self-doubt, the timing of it all gave him pause. The Act of Bravery cited was his survival of a terrifying encounter with Kylo Ren, though of course, the certificate didn’t say that in print. His Act of Bravery closely followed a marked uptick in tensions between Kylo Ren and the general. There had been rumors for years, of course, about the nature of their relationship, but nothing was ever substantiated. It was all just talk, and Mitaka took care not to believe any of it. He was sure the general had better taste in lovers. But still, the thought that his promotion was nothing more than an act of spite, a stick used to jab an ex-boyfriend in the ribs, occasionally settled heavily in his stomach. 

In the six months following the collapse of Starkiller Base, Major Mitaka had become one of General Hux’s most loyal allies, and if he dared to think it, an occasional confidante. Once every week or so, he would be invited to join the general for a cup of tea and a stack of crackers in his immaculate private office on the Finalizer. Often the general would give Mitaka advice about how best to navigate his new role, prioritize tasks, or maintain an air of authority around subordinates. Sometimes he would even solicit feedback from Mitaka about a project he was working on, which was a thrill and an honor. But other times they talked more or less as equals. General Hux expressed genuine interest in Mitaka’s early life, both his childhood on a mid-rim industrial planet and his professional endeavors prior to landing on the Finalizer. The general was careful never to cross any boundaries, however, and he rarely said anything about his own personal life. 

For those first six months, it was a peaceful time. The Resistance was in tatters, the Supreme Leader was off on some personal rampage, leaving General Hux to run the Order mostly by himself. Mitaka enjoyed his new responsibilities and found he was good at them. For the first time in his life, he could almost imagine what galactic peace felt like. 

Then there was the attack on a Resistance cell on Batuu. In the subsequent space battle, the Finalizer was broadsided by a cargo frigate with a death wish. It wasn’t anything that could have been predicted, which was the problem with the Resistance in general. One cannot predict the actions of lunatics. 

The general’s quick action mitigated human casualties, but the Finalizer’s port side docking vestibule was badly damaged. The whole thing needed to be dry-docked for repairs on Zaddja, the nearest semi-friendly planet. Command of the salvage operation fell to Mitaka, which was an honor, of course, but it was filthy, tiresome work. 

Near the end of the fourth day of salvage, the general approached him in the dried-out floodplain where crews were piling up and burning debris. The massive silhouette of the Finalizer stood a kilometer distant, but it still filled nearly the whole horizon. The air was hot, the smell was acrid and Mitaka was sure his face was covered in soot. His skin, unaccustomed to the sun, felt hot and red. He was sweating under his uniform. The general, as always, was impeccably put together, with his red hair neatly combed, his uniform pressed, and his boots polished to a shine. 

“Major.”

“Yes, sir.” Mitaka snapped to attention.

“You haven’t been moving debris yourself, have you?” General Hux said, looking him up and down.

“No-- well, yes, one time. The crew was having a hard time pulling out a section of rebar so I lent a hand. I apologize for my appearance. It’s mostly just being out here all day, with the dust and the smoke.”

“You oughtn’t do that. It lowers you in their eyes,” His superior’s advice came casually these days, but Mitaka always felt a little bitten by failure anyway. “Call them another crew if they need help.”

“Yes, sir. It won’t happen again.” 

General Hux stood next to him, silently watching the crews work for several minutes. He only ever spoke when he was good and ready. Sometimes Mitaka suspected he liked to make others sweat while they waited for him. “I came to tell you that I’m staying on Zaddja with the ship until repairs are complete. There’s no reason I can’t run things from here for a month or two. Explain to me why I think it’s a good idea.”

Mitaka thought quickly. “You’d need to keep the operation small. Can’t have thousands of troopers garrisoned in the villages. If we continue to operate from the undamaged sections of the ship and rarely leave, we may be able to convince the Resistance that we’ve left the planet completely and trap whatever scouts come through to check. At the same time, we can curry favor with the locals as a useful, unobtrusive presence and possibly broker a deal with the planet without bloodshed or wasted resources.”

General Hux nodded in approval. “Exactly. I’ll have several openings for officers on staff. It will be a demanding posting: everyone will need to pull their weight. Continue your good work on this project and I’ll seriously consider you.” 

“Thank you, sir,” Mitaka said. The prospect of working closely with the general for several months, with increased responsibilities, was thrilling and terrifying at the same time. Still, he’d learned that basking in the glow of praise for a moment didn’t hurt anyone, so he resolved to enjoy it for a short time before thinking of all the pressure and anxiety that were surely headed his way.

Mitaka heard the faint whine of a TIE in the distance, and his head snapped to the horizon. They didn’t have any TIEs deployed, nor should any other ship in the fleet be sending one here. He looked over at the General and saw his jaw tighten, almost imperceptibly. The shimmering dot in the sky took on a clearer form as it approached, and Mitaka noticed that this wasn’t an ordinary TIE fighter. This was Supreme Leader Ren’s personal, one-of-a-kind TIE Silencer. 

Cold dread sat like a stone in Mitaka’s stomach. No one had seen hide nor hair of the Supreme Leader for several months, and his last visit to the fleet had been brief enough that Mitaka was able to avoid him entirely. He had secretly hoped that he could avoid the Supreme Leader forever, but that was too optimistic, of course. Mitaka was too good a soldier to turn and run like he wanted to, but he was also too smart to stick around unless it was absolutely necessary.

“Do I need to be here for this, sir?” he asked carefully. 

“No,” General Hux said, without taking his eyes from the horizon. His voice sounded distant. “No, not at all. Dismissed, Major.” 

Mitaka saluted smartly and turned to leave. As he walked away, he felt a pinprick in his conscience. The grounding of a capital ship was not a happy reason to return to the fleet. What if the Supreme Leader attacked General Hux the way he’d attacked Mitaka six months ago? What if he killed him? Mitaka spotted a large piece of twisted metal pulled from the wreck and ducked behind it, so that he could watch over the general from a safe distance. Not that he could really do anything to help, if the worst happened, but it still felt wrong to just abandon his commanding officer.

The TIE Silencer screamed into the open field and skidded to a halt unreasonably close to General Hux and the piece of debris Mitaka was hiding behind. The hatch depressurized with a hiss, and the Supreme Leader jumped down to the ground with no fanfare. He was covered from head to toe in his customary black, and his helmet had obviously suffered some very rudimentary repairs. 

“Supreme Leader,” the general greeted him politely. “I trust you have read my reports on the current situation with the Finalizer.” 

“I received them,” he said dismissively. “I’m shocked that you would allow this to happen to my flagship, General. How careless of you.”

Mitaka burned with righteous indignation. The Supreme Leader wasn’t even there for the battle over Batuu. 

“An attack like that could not be prevented or avoided, Supreme Leader. When the threat became apparent, we did everything in our power to minimize the damage,” General Hux said, staring directly into the helmet’s dark visor. 

“Then I question your ability to perceive threats. It seems to me that a ship careening toward your ship would be quite obvious. Maybe you need closer supervision from someone more...experienced.”

There was a heavy silence. The Supreme Leader and the general appeared to be sizing each other up. 

“I’m afraid I don’t catch your meaning, Supreme Leader.”

“We are very fortunate, General, to have a number of Imperial veterans within our ranks. Up until now, their skills have been vastly underutilized. One of them in particular, Enric Pryde, has been a standout asset to us and will be taking on a new role within the Order. Maybe you know him.”

“Commander Pryde?” General Hux said, his voice faltering. 

“Allegiant General Pryde, as of yesterday.” 

“Allegiant General?” he spat. “Are we making up ranks, now?” 

Mitaka inhaled sharply. This was open insubordination, and for a moment he feared for the general’s safety. He had never heard General Hux speak with such indiscretion. Nor had he heard that note of fear in his voice. Something about this argument felt… more personal than it ought to. 

But the Supreme Leader continued calmly, without rebuking General Hux for his outburst. “I made the decision to advance his rank, due to the tremendous amount of responsibility he will assume. You and your staff will reside on the Steadfast and serve him until the Finalizer can be repaired. Possibly longer. He expects you tomorrow morning.”

General Hux looked stunned. The Supreme Leader stepped closer, into his space, and said something low and inaudible that made the general’s face contort in anger. He started whispering something furiously back.

“Sir?”

Mitaka startled. It was Lieutenant Brink, one of his new subordinates. She was a smart young woman who would require little management if she weren’t constantly second-guessing herself.

“Go ahead, Lieutenant.”

“Well, the foreman is having an issue with the reinforced durasteel I-beams in one of the inner vestibules, he says there’s a risk of further collapse and I didn’t know what to tell him, so I said I’d ask you…” Brink was a long-winded talker and Mitaka wasn’t quite snappish enough to help her get to the point. By the time she finished her question and he answered it, the Supreme Leader was gone and he could barely make out the general stalking off toward the ship in the distance. 

\--

Mitaka only caught up with General Hux several hours later, when Zaddja’s governing star was low in the sky. Natural light flooded the empty bridge of the Finalizer, where the general was leaning over a console, transferring needed data and shutting down unnecessary functions. 

“Change of plans, Major,” he said briskly. “We’re headed to the Steadfast to serve under Allegiant General Pryde until the Finalizer is back on her feet. If you’re asking yourself who that is, don’t feel badly. He was managing the penal colony on Castilon until quite recently.”

Mitaka frowned. An Imperial vet rising from a lowly posting on a nothing planet like Castilon to “Allegiant” General of the fleet was baffling, but the Supreme Leader was prone to erratic behavior. 

“Sir, this new general--”

“Allegiant General,” General Hux corrected.

“Yes, and forgive me, but what is that rank?”

“Above me.” 

“Understood,” Mitaka said awkwardly before trying again, “This  _ Allegiant _ General Pryde, do you know him at all?” 

“I know him well. He was a dear friend of my father’s,” General Hux said. Mitaka was aware that the senior Hux had been a high-ranking Imperial, though he wasn’t sure exactly what capacity he had served in. Hux rarely mentioned any family, and Mitaka got the sense that he was not being invited to ask a follow-up question on that point. 

“He must be a competent officer, I hope?”

“Extremely.” The general knelt down and started flipping through a drawer of physical files and data cards. 

“Is he… is he a good man?” This was a very iffy question to ask a superior, one he wouldn’t have dreamed of asking a year ago, but something was telling him it was important. 

“No. He is not,” General Hux said neutrally. He pulled two files from the drawer and tossed them on the console before going back to fish for more. 

“Is there anything that can be done? Can we alert the Supreme Leader?”

“Ren knows exactly what he’s done.” 

Mitaka swallowed the rest of his nervous questions. When General Hux was in charge, the ship ran smoothly, battles were usually won, the crew were in good hands. The prospect of serving under someone else, someone who seemed to make even General Hux ill-at-ease, was frightening. Now, he reminded himself, was the time to lean on his training and not stick his nose where it didn’t belong. No matter how curious he was about the Supreme Leader’s motives. 

The general pulled out a few more data cards and stacked them with the others, then paused his rifling. He pinched the bridge of his nose and shut his eyes tightly. “Dopheld, I’m going to be very honest with you.” 

Now Mitaka was even more alarmed. The general had never addressed him by his first name before. 

“This is going to be a dangerous posting. I wouldn’t consider it a breach of loyalty if you chose to stay here and oversee the repairs instead.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it, sir,” he said, without hesitation. 

General Hux smiled sadly. “Then I will do my best to protect you.”

\--

The Steadfast was an unfriendly place, even dimmer and quieter than the Finalizer. Even though it was several years newer, there was a dinginess to it. The air was so dry that Mitaka’s hands chapped and cracked. Per the general’s instructions, he never traveled the halls alone, and he wore his sidearm everywhere, even in his own quarters. He stayed away from the bridge. He did not volunteer for assignments or speak unless spoken to. He followed every order to the letter. 

After two weeks, Mitaka had yet to meet the elusive Allegiant General Pryde. Sometimes he suspected General Hux was preventing it somehow. His orders had been erratic, when he thought about it. One day he’d be posted in a training room with new troopers, the next day he’d be overseeing maintenance of the weapons bay. He’d tried to ask other officers about their duties, but they seemed cowed and reluctant to speak to him. 

Because the general no longer had a private office, Mitaka started coming directly to his quarters on the Steadfast for tea. It was a single room, just large enough that the furniture could be creatively arranged to form a sitting area separate from the general’s bed. Mitaka recognized a framed technical drawing of a TIE Silencer sitting propped against the wall, waiting to be hung properly. It was probably the only personal item General Hux salvaged from the Finalizer. The rest of it was standard issue: the same desk with the same chair, the same cheap foam-on-wood sofa, the same small bed Mitaka had in his own quarters (unmade, he noted with concern). In the two weeks since moving ships, General Hux had done little to make the space more comfortable. 

On this evening, he invited Mitaka inside, politely as always, but he looked more tired than usual. His eyes were red-rimmed and strands of his hair were slightly out of place. Mitaka noticed, perhaps for the first time, that the general was young, likely only five or six years older than himself.

“Is everything alright, sir?” Mitaka asked. General Hux did not say anything right away, but reached to the table for his pack of cigarras and lit one.

“You must have known that we were sleeping together. Ren and I,” he said finally. Mitaka’s teal uniform suddenly felt dirty.

“No, sir. I did not know that.”

“You suspected it, surely.”

“No, sir. I heard rumors, but I assumed it was just gossip, or someone trying to defame you.” 

Hux sniffed bitterly. 

“Who else knows?” Mitaka ventured. “For a fact, I mean.”

“No one. Well. No one living,” General Hux said and tapped the ash from his cigarra. “We were caught a couple times, early on. Don’t look like that, Major-- Ren only wiped their memories. The only one who really knew was Phasma.”

“Stars receive her spirit,” Mitaka said automatically, then blushed. His religion was vestigial and embarrassing, but Hux never seemed to mind when something slipped out. In the silence that ensued, Hux stared into the middle distance, clearly lost in his own thoughts. Mitaka tried not to imagine the details of the general’s...affair. Fragmented memories came to him unbidden: the horror of being dragged off his feet by an unseen hand. The feeling of being stripped of all his faculties, the smell of burning leather, then pain in his knees as he hit the floor, gasping and sobbing.

“May I ask a question, sir?”

“You want to know what sort of fucking lunatic would willingly sleep with Kylo Ren.” 

Mitaka smiled uncomfortably. 

“We were young and lonely, I suppose. Ren was gentle with me, at the start, and I’d never...had that, before. We had an understanding.”

Mitaka struggled to imagine Kylo Ren being gentle. His fingers brushed his throat unconsciously. 

“I know what you’re thinking. He was not always like that,” General Hux said quietly.

“Understood,” Mitaka said, for lack of anything else to say.

“What Snoke did to him was horrific. I wanted to help him. Save him, even. Perhaps that’s why I stayed as long as I did.” General Hux’s voice was low and steady, but the cigarra in his fingers was trembling and burning down to nothing. 

“Why did you break up?”

The general fixed him with a gaze. “The same reason you have that medal on your lapel, Major. My well-being was no longer a consideration to him.”

“He attacked you?” Shock and anger flared in Mitaka’s stomach. 

“No.” Hux appeared to reconsider his wording. “Even at his worst, he never laid a finger on me. Sometimes I wish he had. Things would be simpler.” He tossed the end of the cigarra into a dish on the table. “But no. He knew exactly where to stick the knife.” 

Mitaka was struck by how small the general appeared. No longer the infallible force on the bridge of the Finalizer, but a human, capable of heartbreak. He also felt an odd jealousy that Kylo Ren, of all people, was privy to such intimate information about General Hux when he himself was not. 

“I’m sorry, sir.” 

Hux sniffed again, perhaps self-consciously. “Nothing to be done, Major. I made my choices and now I’m living with the consequences.” He schooled his expression back to its customary mask of neutrality and stood up. No trace of vulnerability remained in his face or his posture. “Forgive me, my manners have been atrocious. You prefer red tarine, two sugars, yes?” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I changed things up a little with this chapter, hope you enjoyed it!


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hux comes to a painful decision.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See endnotes for chapter-specific warnings

“Yes, sir.” The words stuck bitterly in Hux’s throat. 

“And one more thing, Armitage. I expect your detailed report on my desk by tomorrow morning, or else we will have to reassess your future on this ship. I hear the warden’s chair at the Castilon penal colony is vacant.” Pryde knew perfectly well who had arranged for his demotion four years ago, and he never missed an opportunity to remind Hux that he knew. 

Pryde still carried the same fucking stick Hux remembered from when he was a child. Everywhere he went. Hux had seen him use it only once since landing on the Steadfast, on a lieutenant’s fingers after finding a typographical error in a message. “Teach those fingers to smarten up,” he had said. Hux’s father had been just as crass and bloviating. All the ex-Imperials of that generation were like that. 

“Of course, sir,” he said politely. He didn’t think Pryde had any real intention of sending him to some backwater post. Not when he enjoyed toying with Hux so much. Nor did Hux really believe that Ren would allow it. Ren was too smart to allow Hux out of his sight. 

Ren may have fucked off across the galaxy after Skywalker to avoid being a real leader, but Hux knew he was keeping tabs. Probably enjoying Hux’s humiliation as much as Pryde was. The least Hux could do was stay calm and not play into it. His moment would come. It always did. He lightly fingered the stiff fabric of his sleeve where the monomolecular blade hid, whispering comforting promises in his ear. 

He tried not to think about Ren too much. 

Hux retreated to his dismal living quarters and quickly wrapped up the staffing report Pryde had asked for. He studied his work, then erased one number and replaced it with a slightly incorrect one. Pryde always found something to nitpick, some little way to cut Hux down. Receiving a dressing-down for perfect work had become nearly intolerable. It was easier to just make the mistake himself, then at least he could control what was coming. Of course, half the time Pryde overlooked the actual error and chose to chastise him for something else. No system was perfect. 

His days were agonizingly slow, now. Pryde gave him few responsibilities, and the ones he did get were lowly and tedious. Reformat the leave-request forms, resolve a scheduling conflict in the training bay, oversee the installation of a new energy-saving lighting system. Wiping out the Resistance seemed to be a low priority for Pryde. Hux remembered that he used to be a very competent strategist, but perhaps he’d grown soft and complacent in his age, more concerned with his own comfort and petty grudges than his actual duties. 

Most of Hux’s time was occupied by keeping his small staff safely away from Pryde, which he accomplished through a massive chart that mapped out everyone’s movements and schedules. It was something to do. He took small comfort in moving his team around like djarik pieces, focusing on the soothing logic of the movements, rather than the horrifying reality of why he was doing it. 

_ Pryde will check the moisture collection facility on Monday; move Brink to intake.  _

_ Mitaka needs to be out of the weapons bay by alpha shift Thursday. Engineering, then.  _

_ Thanisson and Yardley should be okay in surveillance for another week.  _

The chain of bad days stretched on, punctuated only by the very bad days, where he could scarcely convince himself to get out of bed in the morning. He hated his mind for the space Ren occupied in it, always the magnetic north around which Hux’s whole life was oriented, even now in his absence. He hated his body for still craving Ren’s warmth at night. He hated his nearly-broken spirit and his fully-broken heart. 

It was on one of those days that he had confessed everything to Mitaka, in a moment of mortifying weakness. Mitaka was gracious and professional about it, as he was with everything, but Hux had a hard time facing him in the following days. Placing that kind of personal burden on a subordinate, crossing that boundary, was an unforgivable lapse in judgment. The shame of it still dogged him two months later. 

\--

When Hux arrived on the bridge the next morning, Pryde was already there, leaning over a junior officer’s console and making corrections. His stick was held behind his back. 

Hux waited at attention until Pryde turned, then greeted him.

“Ah, good morning Armitage. I was beginning to wonder when you would decide to join us. I’d like you to meet my new aide, Ensign Mitaka.” He stepped back from the officer’s console and Hux saw that it was, in fact, Mitaka sitting there in an ensign’s charcoal jacket. His expression was carefully neutral, but Hux could see the misery in his eyes. 

“Sir,  _ Major _ Mitaka has been performing admirably at a much higher capacity for several years. Using him as an errand boy is a sub-optimal use of his talents.” Hux phrased it as neutrally as he could. 

“He has indeed shown great promise. I believe under my tutelage, he could eventually achieve competence, despite the bad habits he learned under you. But you see Armitage, on my ship, we earn our promotions.” 

Hux had to hold back shocked laughter at the irony. Was he really so oblivious to how he’d gotten his own senseless promotion? Then, with a sick, syrupy smile, Pryde tapped his stick against the rank stripes on Hux’s wrists.

That marrow-deep anger from childhood, dormant but never forgotten, bubbled up like lava in his core. It took everything he had not to unsheath the blade in his sleeve and slice Pryde open then and there, from nave to smug chops, and let his putrid offal stain the floor of the bridge. He was able to stay his hand with effort, but he couldn’t stay his tongue any longer.

“How da--” he started. 

But Mitaka boiled over first. “General Hux is a fine officer who has earned everything he ever got!” 

Pryde rounded on him, stick brandished. “You insolent little--!” 

_ No. _ No, Pryde would not be harming one of Hux’s staff today or any other day. As he raised the stick over his head, Hux grabbed it and twisted Pryde’s arm behind his back. Then, with muscle memory he’d forgotten he had, he brought him to the floor, hard, with one knee in his back. Oddly enough, it was a move that Ren had taught him after an assassination attempt a couple years ago. He’d made Hux practice it hundreds of times on the sparring mat, late into the night, until he was satisfied. Hux wasn’t sure how to feel about that, now, but physically overpowering Pryde was undeniably satisfying. 

“Arrest them! Both of them!” Pryde shouted from the floor, veins popping in his temple. “Bring them to the brig!”

Hux stepped back with his hands up. Two guards rushed forward to restrain him and clicked mag cuffs over his wrists. He let them do it. Whatever happened now mattered little. Mitaka, also cuffed, looked horrified, his face drained of blood, but Hux gave him a slight nod to reassure him. 

\--

The brig was hotter and damper than any room on a star destroyer had a right to be. Just like Pryde to waste resources to make a point. Hux quickly started sweating through his uniform jacket, but taking it off felt like capitulation. Removing the jacket would mean removing the rank stripes that he had earned through a lifetime of hard work and devotion to the cause. So he sat, and sweated, and reddened. 

The lights were low enough that he could make out shapes, but not much else. No reading material, no clocks, no viewports, no other inmates in sight or speaking distance. That last part was just as well. Hux didn’t want to talk to anyone. 

Dinner, when it finally came, was tepid leftovers from the day before. Hux wasn’t hungry, but he ate it all anyway, taking big mouthfuls while staring spitefully at the security camera in the corner. 

After dinner, he lay back on the small bunk with his ankle propped on his knee. The rays from the blinking red light on the camera looked like a little red X in the darkness. Hux closed his eyes to shut it out. 

It was one thing when Ren blindly lashed out from raw emotion. Hux had been willing to forgive that, over and over again, though resentment calcified his heart. But this was calculated. Pulling the last of Brendol’s friends back into Hux’s life was the worst betrayal imaginable. Ren was there when Hux startled awake from nightmares. Ren had held him and whispered to him all night, after Hux had to lie through his teeth at Brendol’s funeral. Ren knew  _ everything _ .

And he was using it to hurt Hux. 

That was the one thing, the only thing, Hux was sure he would never do. And yet he could barely find the energy to be angry about it. 

It really would have been easier if Ren had choked him, or just killed him outright.

He was just tired of it all. He had a few good years out of his thirty-five total, primarily the first few with Ren. Brendol and most of his friends had been neutralized or eliminated. He had risen to the top of the chain of command, with the Order’s flagship to his name. He’d been given free rein to design and build Starkiller. He loved another person, for the first time in his life. The struggle had seemed to be mostly over. Now he was starting all over from nothing, all of the work with no more chance of reward. 

Hux was still sweating and ruminating when he eventually lapsed into restless sleep.

_ The planet is about to collapse and the last transport has lifted off. Ren is kneeling in the Starkiller snow in front of Hux, bleeding profusely from a gaping wound in his chest. His heart is lying on the frozen ground, still beating slowly. Ren just cut it out of himself with his lightsaber. Hux can hear his own heartbeat, the blood rushing wildly through his veins, his ragged breathing howling through his trachea. He picks up the heart with shaking hands and tries to put it back in Ren’s chest and hold it there, but Ren pries his fingers away.  _

_ “Please, it’s yours!” Hux begs. “Take it back!” _

_ Ren holds Hux’s bloody hands in his own and presses kisses to his knuckles. The heart stays in Ren’s chest only a moment before falling out again. “It was diseased,” he says, too calmly. “I don’t want to give you rotten meat.” _

_ “Ren, please!” _

_ “That’s not my name,” Ren says, and falls over dead. _

Hux woke with a start, gasping and teary-eyed. He pressed himself against the cell wall and rubbed his arms to bring down the goosebumps. It had to be morning, because he always woke at the same time out of habit, but the lights were still dimmed to nearly nothing. The unrelenting heat was starting to make him feel ill. He was almost certainly dehydrated from sweating, and the food from the previous evening never quite settled in his stomach. 

Hux had never felt so pathetic. He rubbed his eyes. The burden of being upright had grown too heavy and gotten him nothing, in the end. He was sick of it all. Eating his vegetables hadn’t gotten his mother a spot on an evac transport when the Empire fell. Good grades in school hadn’t saved him from his father’s belt. A pressed uniform and neat haircut hadn’t protected him from vicious hazing at the Academy. A prestigious posting after graduation hadn’t made him any less lonely. 

And it turned out, sharing a bed with someone for five years hadn’t meant he was loved. 

Hux stared at the wall, hollow. He’d been holding so tight to the Order, but for what? It wasn’t really his. It was founded by people like Snoke and his father, now run by Ren and Pryde. If the Order ever belonged to Hux, it certainly didn’t anymore. His life had been hanging by a thread for nine months; his luck couldn’t last much longer and he was tired. 

Sitting up made him feel lightheaded, so he lay back down on the cot. His stomach churned and the room tilted. The thought of eating another lukewarm meal was intolerable. His jacket felt oppressively hot and constrictive, but he still didn’t want to take it off. He wrapped his arms around himself, shivering in spite of the temperature, and pulled his knees up closer to his chest. His fingers brushed against his rank stripes. They grounded him.

He had earned those stripes, for better or worse. He’d done horrific things to get them, and once he had them, they entitled him to commit even more atrocities under someone else’s banner, someone else’s name. His actions were his own, in the sense that he would answer for them, but had his life course ever been up to him? He’d thought he was free of Brendol and all the others who’d bent him to their will, but here he was, still proudly living the life laid out for him from birth. Congratulating himself for it, even. He couldn’t believe how blind he’d been. If he tried to start making his own choices now, where could he even begin?

Hux considered. He had very few cards left to play, and even fewer that Ren would care about. The Order was the only thing Hux even had the power to damage, and Ren didn’t give a shit about it. Even if Hux burned the entire Order to the ground (and he could), it wouldn’t hurt Ren. Not like he had hurt Hux. But some stubborn corner of his heart didn’t even want that. That was the most painful part. He didn’t _ want  _ to hurt Ren. Or rather, he didn’t want to hurt the Ren he fell in love with six years ago.

Ben.

That name felt like unearthing something ancient, something that hadn’t existed for a long time.

Ben, at least, had loved him. Even if Kylo Ren didn’t. He knew it was a stupid distinction, born of a broken heart in denial. He knew that blaming Snoke for everything he hated about Kylo Ren was a cop-out. But still, he couldn’t let go of the certainty that things might have been different. If Hux could only have held onto him tightly enough, Ben would have  _ never  _ done this to him. Hux felt quite sure that if he could go back in time and show Ben the future, Ben would agree with him: Kylo Ren had to be destroyed. And Hux would have to be the one to do it.

Hux rushed over to the toilet and emptied his stomach. Even if it were physically possible for him to do so, he couldn’t do it. He couldn’t kill Ren. His hands would never allow it. He’d have to figure out some other way. Any way that could remove Ren from power while also giving him a chance at survival. At the thought of the Resistance, Hux’s shoulders shuddered and he heaved again. His whole torso felt hollow and fragile, as if his lungs were about to shatter. His knuckles clenched white. What came out of his mouth must have been pure poison, for the way it burned his throat.

The violent illness continued throughout the day and night. 

At dawn on his third day in the brig, Hux took off his uniform jacket. 

\--

Day four. His stomach had settled, but he still felt weak and drained. The thought of doing what he had to do was nearly overwhelming if he examined it too closely, so he didn’t. He just sat numbly and ran through the security measures he would have to take when he got back to his quarters. Data security protocols felt comfortingly mundane, as long as he didn’t think about what he’d be using them for. 

Later in the morning, the cell door creaked open. The light from the hallway was blinding. Hux could barely make out the silhouetted figure standing in the doorway, but he recognized the stick in its hand. 

“Have you had quite enough, Armitage? On my ship, insubordination and assaulting a superior is normally a capital offense. You ought to count yourself lucky that the Supreme Leader still favors you.”

“What?” The bare expression of surprise is past Hux’s lips before he can stop it.  _ Favor?  _

Pryde only laughed, and walked out of the brig leaving the door open behind him. 

\--

Hux headed straight to his quarters from the brig. Even though he was badly in need of a shower and toothbrush, he sat straight down at his desk and pulled up all the files he had saved from the Finalizer before he transferred. He’d kept everything he could safely obtain: mission briefings, security protocols, command logs, navigational histories, transcripts of meetings, personnel files, and intelligence reports. The more information he could hold onto personally, his thinking had gone, the safer he would be. At the time, he wasn’t sure exactly when or how it would be useful, but data was a powerful failsafe.

He examined it all carefully over the course of several hours, balancing which pieces of information had the potential to cripple the Order against those which would be most damning to himself. By the start of delta shift, he had compiled a dossier of the most pertinent information that, all together, created a mostly-accurate picture of the First Order’s current hierarchy, military strategy, and dealings in the Outer Rim and Mid-Rim, including names and contact information for most of their major weapons dealers.

The door buzzer rang. Hux quickly closed down everything he was looking at and went to check the security monitor. It was Mitaka. Hux felt almost as if he could smile. He opened the door and stepped aside to let him in.

Mitaka looked nearly as bad as Hux, rumpled and unshaven and tired-eyed. He held his cap crumpled in his hands.

“Sir,” he started, then paused to choke back tears. “Thank the stars they let you out, I was so worried. I am so sorry, sir, I should have kept my mouth shut, but I couldn’t stand hearing him make those insinuations about you. I never—”

“Dopheld,” Hux put his hand on Mitaka’s shoulder and guided him to a chair, then knelt in front of him like a child. He felt calmer and lighter than he had in months. Mitaka took the handkerchief Hux offered him and pressed it into each eye, then blew his nose. “Come now, it’s okay. Everything is going to be okay. Were you locked up as well? Are you hurt?”

“Just two nights, sir. I’m fine. I went back to work yesterday and kept my head down.”

“Good lad. Did the Allegiant General say anything out of the ordinary yesterday?”

“Just that you’d done a terrible job training me and that I had a lot of bad habits to break. He said that I shouldn’t expect any more pity-promotions,” Mitaka said, sniffling.

“Nominal! All is well, then,” Hux said, even though it wasn’t nearly. “I know it’s difficult, but you mustn’t take any of it to heart.” Soothing words were coming more easily than he was accustomed to. Maybe it was a byproduct of letting go of his entire code of conduct and moral framework. It was all rubbish, spoon-fed to him from birth by men with poor character and worse intentions. A small smile rose to his lips.

“Listen, Dopheld. I am going to get us off this ship soon.” And out of this organization, but that was on a need-to-know basis. “I don’t know when yet, but when the moment comes, I need you to be ready. And I need you to get word to the others and help them be ready, as well. Can you do that?”

“Yes, sir.” Mitaka sounded confused. “If I may, where will we go?” 

“I’m not sure yet,” Hux said honestly. “It will depend on how things play out. Forgive me for not telling you more. It’s safer for you this way.” 

Mitaka folded his hands in his lap, Hux’s handkerchief still crumpled between them. Their eyes met. “I trust you, sir.” The quiet vulnerability in Mitaka’s voice made Hux more sure of his decision. He would not allow the grinding brutality of the First Order to take anyone else away from him. 

“I’m grateful for it.” He touched Mitaka’s shoulder and squeezed lightly before rising to his feet. Hux noticed again how disheveled Mitaka looked. He must not have gotten any sleep at all. “Go get some rest, now.” 

Mitaka followed him back to the door. 

“And Major,” Hux added, his hand resting on the doorframe, “I expect you to look like a soldier tomorrow, regardless of the color of your uniform. We still have jobs to do.”

“Yes, sir.” Mitaka smiled weakly, then left. 

Hux leaned back against the door and closed his eyes for a moment. The tasks before him felt impossibly daunting, but doing nothing was just as great a risk. He had no idea how he could keep his four staff safe in the wake of what he was about to do. Seek shelter with the Resistance? Escape into Wild Space? The whole idea was insanity. But still, it would be Hux’s first time acting entirely as his own man. And that made his heart pound with hysterical liberation. 

\--

It took Hux ten days to prepare for all the risks and contingencies he could think of, working almost nonstop in his off hours, rarely pausing to eat or sleep. Deep in ship’s night, he shorted the electricity to his quarters, which killed all the surveillance devices without appearing suspicious. The Steadfast’s wiring was shoddy at the best of times, due to poor maintenance, so it would be easy to overlook a few minutes’ outage. Then he sat at his desk and, with a deep breath, plugged in a set of contact coordinates. There was no turning back now. 

A young woman appeared on the holofeed. She was sitting in the captain’s chair of some kind of light cargo ship, with her feet propped up on the dash. Hux had never seen her before personally, but she matched Ren’s description of the scavenger who bested him on the surface of Starkiller. Something like protective anger surfaced at the memory of Ren bleeding out in the snow, but Hux quickly corrected himself. She was a potential ally, and he needed to crush any vestigial loyalty or sympathy toward Ren. With any luck, he would be dead within a month, and Hux had to be ready to accept it. 

“Shit,” she said, before Hux could say anything. “You’re Armitage Hux.” 

Hux pinched the bridge of his nose. Of course, she would recognize him from his propaganda reels. “Yes, and you’re very lucky that this is a secure line. I’m glad to have reached you, Miss…?”

“Just Rey. What can I do for you, Armitage?” A control panel started beeping behind her, and she grabbed her staff and whacked it until it stopped. 

“First, you can stop calling me that. Hux is fine. Second, I am willing to offer you crucial information about the internal structure and strategic movements of the First Order fleet,” he said, pausing for effect. To his surprise, the young woman looked bored. Annoyed, even. “Needless to say, this is a one-time offer that comes off the table in twenty-four standard hours. In the last nine months, I have become convinced that the Supreme Leader of the First Order, Kylo Ren, no longer has the best interests of the Order at heart. In fact, I believe he has become completely deranged. I am offering this information, at great risk to myself, in the hope that your combined forces may prevail to remove or destroy him--”

“Look, I really don’t want to get involved in this,” she interrupted.

“I’m sorry,” Hux faltered, “exactly what is it that you believe you are _ getting involved in _ ?”

“Your relationship drama. I’m not interested.” 

Hux paled. How the hell could she know that? Unless Ren had already been captured and tortured into giving up even the most irrelevant information he had. But why hadn’t the Resistance made their move, if they had that caliber of intel? “I haven’t the faintest idea what you’re talking about.” 

“Sure,” she said, popping a cracker into her mouth and chewing loudly. “You’re pretty obnoxious, aren’t you? Can’t imagine what he sees in you.”

“Look, do you want the intelligence or not? Because if you’ve already captured him and interrogated everything out of him, I won’t waste my time.” Hux did his best to ignore the implication about what Ren  _ sees  _ in him. 

“Yeah, I’ll take it,” she sighed, as if she were doing him a burdensome favor. 

Hux was about to hang up, but the stone sitting in his heart wouldn’t let him. “Have… have you? Taken him prisoner, I mean. Because if we’re without a leader, I’d rather like to know.” 

She sighed again. “Goodbye, Armitage.” 

\--

Rey ended the holocall. 

“Who was that?” Ben’s voice came from the Falcon’s belowdecks. It was pure luck that he was elbow-deep in repairs when Hux called. Things with Ben were tenuous enough already, she could not afford a setback with him. 

“Emperor Palpatine,” she called down. “He’s returned from the dead and wants you for a top secret mission.” 

“Haha,” came the distant reply. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warnings: verbal abuse, threat of physical abuse, vomiting, self-dismemberment (in a dream).
> 
> Sorry this one was late! I’m blaming [our new dog](https://the-force-electric.tumblr.com/post/625478522656505856) for taking up all my time! The final two chapters are going to be relatively chunky, so probably expect a three-week update time for those as well.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rey continues her Food Network road trip across the galaxy. 
> 
> Ben begins the long process of getting his shit together.

**One month earlier**

“Push! Come on darling, you’ve almost got it.” Rey’s arms were submerged to the elbow in an orbak’s birth canal. She was covered head to toe in sweat and grime and fluids, and things were not looking good. The baby was breech, and she could tell through the Force that he was low on oxygen. “Push, darling. Just a little more!”

The orbak bellowed, her hooves kicking helplessly in the mud. She was nearing exhaustion. A light rain fell, as it always did on this planet. Her owners, an older Bith couple, passed Rey another bucket of hot water and rags and indicated with their hands that Rey should try to rotate the calf around. Bith arms were too short to reach far enough in to help. They’d flagged her down on the road a couple hours earlier, then pulled her out to the field where the orbak was struggling.

“There’s no time,” she explained. “I’m going to try to pull him out.”

The Bith looked disapproving, but nodded. Rey found what felt like rear hocks and grabbed onto each one. The baby was slick, and her hands slipped, but she kept finding him again. The orbak roared as Rey gave one final tug, and the calf came out in a rush of fluid. He lay still in Rey’s hands for a moment, and they all held their breaths. Then a leg twitched, and he started squirming. The Bith wife rushed in and started wiping the baby down vigorously with a hot rag, and the husband cleared his airways with a suction.

The orbak mother lay on her side, heaving. When the calf’s lungs were clear of fluid, he bleated, and she rocked up to look at him. The Force sang all around them, neither light nor dark, omnichromatic yet perfectly unified. She felt the orbak mother’s pride and concern for her baby intermixing with the Bith couple’s love for their herd and each other, the droplets settling on the billyflower petals as the overnight rain eased, the worms munching on the calf’s ancestors beneath them. She wiped a tear from her face with the back of her hand.

Rey waved goodbye to the couple and started to walk back across the damp field. Her planetside wanderings never failed to yield an interesting encounter, but she was starving, and it was a long walk back to town. She had rations onboard the Falcon still, but she could rarely resist trying local cuisine when she had the chance. Even though she was running low on credits, she had a good routine. She’d stop on a planet for a night or two, go for a long walk, get a hot meal, listen to the locals chat amongst themselves and occasionally strike up a conversation herself. She liked hearing about their successful growing seasons, the harsh winter ahead, the local elections, their fast-sprouting children and grandchildren.

Bumming around the galaxy by herself for months had taught her more about the Force than she’d ever learned in her traditional training. The Force was never meant to be practiced in isolation, she had realized, not when a simple conversation or a shared meal with a stranger could reveal dimensions of color and complexity that she never dreamed possible. Light and dark. What an absurd dichotomy. The Force was green foliage, it was soft laughter under bedcovers, it was the ringing of bells in a marketplace, it was a gathering storm, it was an alien child’s toothless grin, it was the trust between an equinoid and its rider. The Force was life, death, and the little shades in between.

She’d given it a shot with Luke. She really had. But when she finally got the truth out of him about what had happened with Ben, the decision was clear. She took the Falcon in the middle of the night and never looked back. In those first few days, she vowed to never use the Force again, if mastering it meant playing judge, jury and executioner with your own nephew. She could hardly imagine. 

But the connection with Ben seemed to be severed, or at least, she hadn’t had any more moments of seeing him. Every so often she’d see a big, dark-haired stranger on the street or in the market and do a double take, then ignore the little drop in her heart when it wasn’t him. She hoped he was okay. 

Just then, she felt a tap on her shoulder. The Bith wife caught up to her and handed her a woven container with a lid. Inside were a dozen steaming dumplings. They smelled delicious.

“Thank you,” Rey said. The Bith wife nodded, then hurried back across the field.

Rey ate the dumplings with her fingers as she walked. They were filled with some kind of tender, fatty meat, probably orbak, and a mix of floral seasonings she couldn’t identify by name. She could taste the care that went into cultivating each ingredient though, as well as the Bith’s personal gratitude to her.

Just before dawn, as the lights of the town were coming into view, a screaming ball of metal came hurtling toward the planet’s surface, burning up in the atmosphere. She stuffed the last dumpling in her mouth and took off running toward the future crash-site. But the flaming spacecraft beat her there and skidded a kilometer further before bouncing off a big rock and rolling to a stop.

When Rey caught up to the wreck, the pilot was trying to extricate himself in between putting out small fires on his clothing. It was hard to tell with all the black smoke, but there was something a bit menacing about this pilot. He wore all black, with a stormtrooper-style helmet, and he was big. But now was not the time to get judgmental; the Force called her to help.

She ran closer and called out, “Hey! Are you okay?”

The pilot’s head snapped to her direction, and they both knew. The bond between them blazed back to life, stronger than ever before. His Force signature was volatile, jagged, like a wild animal that’s been injured and cornered. He was definitely weaker than the last time she saw him, but in a way that felt unpredictable and dangerous. She didn’t care. 

“Ben!” she screamed, and sprinted to him. She grabbed his hands and pulled him out of the wreck, and he rolled on the ground to put out the rest of the fires. He got back to his hands and knees and pulled his helmet off, then started coughing violently. His hair was longer than she remembered. When he recovered enough, he sat back on his heels and looked up at her. His face was covered in soot.

“Is it actually you?” He sounded slightly dazed.

“Yeah. It’s me. Are you hurt?”

“I don’t think so.” He looked around. “What planet is this?”

“Arkanis.”

Ben flinched. “I was headed for Kef Bir.” He tried to get up, but Rey made him sit.

“The Endor moon? You’re way off. And you’re not flying this thing again anytime soon.” She appraised the smoking wreckage. “What the hell even happened?”

“I fell asleep.”

“You fell  _ asleep? _ How long had you been flying?”

“I don’t know. Five or six standard days? I have a lot going on.” He sounded annoyed.

“You couldn’t have put it on autopilot and had a nap?”

Ben scoffed. “This is a high-performance tactical craft. It doesn’t have autopilot.”

“Shit, Ben.” She didn’t know what else to say. The Force had never been quite this unsubtle with her. “Well, come with me, if you can walk. I’m camped out just over that ridge with the Falcon.”

Ben’s eyes widened and he shook his head. “No, I have to get out of here. I have to get to Kef Bir, I can’t stay here!”

Rey knelt down and put her hands on his shoulders. When she looked in his eyes, she could feel how terrified he was at the serendipity of their meeting and the prospect of seeing his father’s ship again. He was convinced it was retribution of some kind. Plus there was something about the planet itself that had him badly shaken. She willed herself to act calmer than she felt. “We have unfinished business with each other. I know you can tell how significant this is. Are you really in a position to ignore the message?”

\--

The walk back passed in tense silence. The bond was much more intense in person; if it felt like a threadlink before, now it was like sharing a soul. Just her luck, that the Force would throw her lot in with such an unpleasant person. The Falcon came into view as they crested the ridge, nestled at the rocky base and bathed in early morning light. Ben’s face was impassive, but she could feel the howling depths of his grief and guilt nearly swallow him up.

“Come on.” She took his hand in hers as they approached.

She’d been living in the Falcon for almost six months and knew it intimately by now. She’d tinkered with nearly every system onboard. The dents and stains and unexplainable noises almost felt like family.

But she was completely unprepared to see it all through Ben’s eyes. Everything looked smaller, for one thing, as if he remembered it being far grander than it was. But the more alarming part was the ghosts. Rey saw a million memories playing themselves back simultaneously over every inch of the ship. A young Ben falling asleep to the quiet murmurs and laughter of Han, Leia, and Luke coming from the common room. The moment Ben realized that Chewie had been letting him win at dejarik all those years. A slightly older Ben spending a cramped night down in the gunner’s chair after an argument with Han. The sinister whispers that used to come from the vents at night, telling him that he was destined for greatness.

Rey had to block him out entirely before she got overwhelmed.

“Sit.” She pointed at the semicircular seating booth in the common room, then rummaged in the cooler for ration packs and drinks. First things first. “I’ve got cushnip flavor or melirooberry, what do you want?”

“Doesn’t matter,” he said weakly.

She tossed him the melirooberry flavored pack and a canteen of water, then slid into the booth across from him. The fullness from the dumplings hadn’t lasted long; she was already hungry again. She ripped open the other ration pack with her teeth. 

“So what’s so important on Kef Bir?” She knew she wouldn’t like the answer. 

“The Death Star’s wreckage is in one of its oceans. And my grandfather died over Endor. I’ve been… struggling.” He pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes. He hated admitting this. “I think the Light is polluting me. That’s why the past year has been so terrible. I wanted to cleanse myself and reconnect to the Dark.” 

Now it was Rey’s turn to scoff. “You still believe in all that?”

“What?” Ben said dangerously.

“The light side versus the dark. It’s nonsense,” she said. Ben’s features darkened, but she continued before he could argue back. “There is a spiritual life-energy that runs through the entire universe, binding the galaxy together and connecting all living beings, and we’re to believe that it can be divided into a binary like light and dark? That you have to devote yourself fully to one side of it, forsaking the other, in order to progress and find meaning in your life? That sounds reasonable to you?”

“Wow, Luke’s teaching has changed a lot from what I remember,” he said bitterly. 

A lump rose in Rey’s throat. She hadn’t told anyone about why she’d left. “Luke isn’t my teacher anymore. Not after I found out what he did to you.” 

Ben’s gaze dropped to the floor. “He told you?” 

“Not right away. He was ashamed. But yes, eventually he told me.”

“And you gave up your training because of it?”

“Yes.”

He was silent for a long time. Rey didn’t push him. It felt good to tell someone, even if it was Ben. There were a million excuses to not return calls when there was a war on, with everyone stationed all over the galaxy. She didn’t know how to begin to explain, especially to Leia. That hurt the worst. 

“Can we get off Arkanis tomorrow?” he said eventually. 

“Sure.” Rey shrugged. The only solid thing on her calendar was a visit to the Resistance base on Crait in a few weeks, but she had no particular plans until then. 

“Great. I’m going to bed.”

“Okay. Take Chewie’s quarters, if you want. There should be a pillow and blanket in the underbed storage.”

He slid out of the booth and left the room without another word. When Rey eventually turned off the lights in her own quarters and settled under the covers, she could hear muffled crying on the other side of the thin wall. She left him to it. 

\--

Ben didn’t talk or leave his quarters much for the first few days, which was fine by Rey. The Force may have thrown them together for a reason, but that didn’t mean she had to like it. On days where they had nowhere to land, she got up early, ate breakfast alone, then left him a list of onboard repairs for when he eventually woke up. On Jakku there was a saying, “No trouble so bad that good labor can’t fix.” Which she had always hated, but now she was starting to think there was some truth to it. And the Falcon really needed it.

But when the items on the list went unchecked day after day, Rey started to get annoyed. They were traveling through Hutt space and due to land on Dubrava in a matter of hours, and the capacitor was still prone to overheating upon atmospheric entry. Fixing it herself felt like giving in, and she was far too stubborn for that.

“Hey!” She knocked on his door.

No answer. She entered anyway. The whole room was cloaked in cold, sludgy energy. It felt like plunging into frozen slush, clogging her lungs and setting her nerves alight. Her own energy felt sapped just being there. Ben was lying on the cot facing the wall. The Wookiee-sized mattress actually dwarfed him. He didn’t acknowledge her.

“I know you love laying about, but unless you want to burn up on entry, the capacitor needs your attention. I’ve heard the street food on Dubrava is to die for, but I’m not ready to take it quite so literally.”

“I feel like I’m being eaten alive, Rey.” His voice was soft, nearly a whisper. He shifted onto his back and looked at her, pleading.

She’d assumed, the first time she met him, that he was in the middle of some extraordinary crisis and that his dramatic behavior was out of the ordinary. But no, it seemed that he was just like that. “Yes, I know. It’s very unpleasant.”

“What can I do? I don’t even know how to begin to fix everything I’ve done.”

Rey huffed. Her patience was running out. “You’re just all about yourself, aren’t you? I know how you think of me, as your mother, or your savior, or whatever. Stop it. I can’t fix you.” 

Ben’s face fell. She felt the crushing echo of some old hurt in there, but it just annoyed her more. “Don’t come to me looking for absolution. That’s your work to do. If you need a place to start, start with the capacitor so we don’t die.” She brushed past him on her way to the door. “Unless you’ve got a wrench in your hand, I don’t want to see you again until we land. And the First Order is buying dinner tonight.”

Rey plopped angrily in the pilot’s seat. She decided that she wasn’t even going to check on the repair. She would continue on their planned flight path and simply assume that Ben wouldn’t kill them both through inaction. Obstinate, definitely. Foolish, probably.

When she dropped into atmosphere over Dubrava that evening, it was perfectly smooth, with no overheating in any of the mechanisms. Even the landing gear felt less rickety when they touched down. She smiled when she felt Ben appear in the cockpit doorway behind her.

“I took a look at some of the other systems too. I can’t believe you’ve been flying it like this.”

She swiveled her chair around. “Would you believe me if I told you it’s better than how I found it?”

Ben almost smiled. “Yeah.”

\--

The food on Dubrava was as good as she’d heard. Everything was heavy and greasy and fried, from the meats to the vegetables to the thick, gooey desserts. It was the kind of thing she’d only ever seen at the Solstice Carnival at Neema outpost on Jakku, and even then, she hadn’t been able to afford any of it. The Hutts were not overly concerned with health, and Rey was grateful for it. She and Ben stayed a week longer than they’d planned, just to have more of the food. She still didn’t see much of him during the day, but now it was because he was belowdecks working most of the time. Having a purpose seemed to do him good, and it made their conversations easier.

“I was thinking of checking the fuel tank tomorrow,” Ben said one evening, wadding up his greasy trash from dinner and leaning back in his seat. “I think it might have a leak.”

Rey frowned. “What makes you say that?”

“I dunno, I just remember it getting more out of a tank when I was younger.”

“Hm. Sure, have a look then.”

“And once that’s done, I think we need to leave this planet while I can still fit in my pants.” He tugged at his waistband. It did look a little tight. She’d been ignoring the extra squeeze in her own clothes.

“You’re probably right,” she sighed. “I haven’t trained since we got here, either.”

Ben looked like he was almost going to say something, then thought better of it. Then rethought again. “Do you want to spar?”

“Seriously?” The idea wasn’t totally unappealing. It’s not like she had anyone else to practice with. 

“Sure.”

So Rey fetched her staff and another practice saber for Ben, assuming it was best not to bring in a loaded item like the Skywalker saber right now. They trekked out to a good clearing and started out with some blocking drills to warm up. Ben’s reach was as absurd as she remembered. He was also a lot sharper and quicker without a near-fatal wound slowing him down, and Rey struggled to stay out of his range. He noticed.

“Don’t work so hard to cover my distance. You’ll get tired before I do. Let me come to you, get out of the way, then take your shot. You want to get in so close that it’s hard for me to hit you without backing up.”

She did as he said, and sure enough, she landed a hit on his ribs the next time.

“Good. Now keep your weight on your back foot. Change direction more.”

“You know a lot about how to beat you,” she said, as she took another swing at him.

He ducked out of the way of her staff this time. “Most of the people I trained with were smaller than me. It’s your advantage, if you know how to use it.”

The sun was getting low in the sky and the evening humidity started to set in. Rey got a few more hits in using Ben’s suggestions, and he started working harder to stay back from her. 

“That thing suits you really well,” he said, and nodded at her staff. “Have you thought about making a double-ended saber?”

_ I already have a lightsaber,  _ she thought, and felt a shadow pass over his mood in response. The truth was, it hadn’t even crossed her mind to build her own. 

_ You don’t know the half of what that saber has done. Why do you think I wanted it so badly?  _ Ben’s thought echoed in her head. It was disturbing. She dropped her guard and he tapped her upper arm with his practice stick. 

“Do you even know how to build a double-ended one?” she asked aloud.

“I’m pretty sure we could figure it out.” 

Rey eventually ran out of energy and flopped onto the ground, breathing hard. “You win, I’m beat. That was… that was really good, Ben. Thank you.”

“Well.” He sat next to her on the ground and brushed his sweat-damp hair back from his face. “It’s my fault you’re not in formal training anymore.”

“No, that was my choice. It’s not your fault Luke couldn’t extend some compassion to you.” She smiled. “You do make it difficult sometimes, but it’s not impossible.”

Ben smiled too.

\--

Rey landed at the foot of a craggy red mountain range on Crait, outside the radar range of the Resistance base. Her planned visit came upon them faster than she’d expected. She also hadn’t expected to have a massive pile of intel to hand over when she got there, but Armitage Hux had come through in the nick of time in that respect. She’d combed through it and pulled out anything that pertained to Ben specifically, which made her feel mildly guilty and protective. 

Who the hell was this Hux, anyway, that he’d sell out someone he used to love like that? The whole thing was deeply uncomfortable. She knew she’d have to discuss it with Ben sooner or later, but she hesitated to risk any of the progress he’d made. Living with him had gotten easier, to the point that she could actually enjoy their connection most of the time, rather than needing to block it out for her own sanity. If Hux’s treason pushed Ben right back into the arms of anger and darkness, she didn’t know what she would do. 

She’d told Ben only the barest details of why they were on this planet. The less he and the Resistance knew about each other, the better. But still, she wanted him to meet Rose. Rose was trustworthy. “We’re meeting up with a friend of mine for dinner and leaving tomorrow morning” was all she’d said as they approached the Crait system. She’d felt his panic spike as he ran through various worst-case scenarios of Rey forcing him into some unwelcome confrontation.

“Obviously I’m not going to spring your mother on you!” she’d snapped, hurt that he still didn’t trust her. Ben had walked off and that was the end of the conversation. She hadn’t seen him since, and she figured it was probably time to patch things up. She couldn’t really blame him for being nervous. And, she hated to think, he was at least a little bit right not to trust her. Another pang of guilt hit her. She’d have to find a way to tell him about her contact with Hux. 

“Ben?” She knocked on his door. There was no answer, so she cracked the door open and stuck her head in. He wasn’t in there, but she could hear the sonic shower running in the fresher. An open box full of handwritten papers caught her eye on the bed. Rey could feel tremendous emotional Force energy coming from the box. It called to her the same way the Skywalker lightsaber had, nearly a year ago. Her rational brain told her that she shouldn’t violate Ben’s privacy, but everything else was telling her that she needed to look, that Ben  _ wanted _ her to.

It was a stack of letters. Messily written, with parts crossed out and edited. Rey’s heart sank when she started to read. 

_ Hux, _

_ Are you ready to forgive me yet? I know I hurt you, but you hurt me too. I think I can get past it if you can. Let me know.  _

_ Kylo _

_ Hux, _

_ Please, I can’t stand being without you. I don’t want to be away from you anymore. I want to go back to the way we used to be at the start. Let’s just pretend none of this happened. Can we do that? I’m so lonely, I miss you so much.  _

_ Please, Hux. I’ll do anything.  _

_ Kylo _

_ Hux, _

_ If I came home, would you be happy to see me, even a little bit? You were right about Snoke. I can see that now. I’m sorry it took me so long.  _

_ Ren _

_ Hux, _

_ I’m so sorry for how I treated you. I was hurt and lashing out, not that it excuses anything. I don’t really know how to fix it, but I want to come home and try to make amends anyway. At the very least, I can get you off the Steadfast and back on the Finalizer. I’m going to step down as Supreme Leader, too, and we can talk about your coronation, if that’s still what you want. I think you’d look good in red.  _

_ Ren _

Rey put the letters back in the box. “Ben,” she murmured to herself. She fingered the data card in her pocket. Handing it over to Rose made her feel complicit in Hux’s betrayal, but she also couldn’t justify keeping it from the Resistance. Not when her friends’ lives hung in the balance, as well as billions of others. Ben would be angry. He’d be hurt. But he’d also have to understand her position, wouldn’t he? 

She could hear the buzz of a speeder approaching in the distance; it had to be Rose. 

“Hurry up and get dressed, we have company,” she shouted in the general direction of the fresher. She heard a muffled “coming” from behind the door, then went outside to wait. 

Rose pulled up in a cloud of salt, and before she could even switch off the ignition, Rey pulled her out of the driver’s saddle and swung her in a circle until they both fell on the ground in helpless laughter. 

“How are you this heavy?” Rose giggled helplessly. “Get off me!”

“Never!” 

When Ben came out a minute later in clean clothes and damp hair, they were just getting back to their feet and brushing the salt off each other. He appeared relieved that their guest was, in fact, no one he’d met before. 

“Rose, this is my friend Ben. I met him on my last trip out to the Arkanis Sector.”

“Nice to meet you, Ben,” Rose said, as she shook pink dust out of her hair with her fingers.

“Same to you.” 

Rey waited for more conversation to happen, but it didn’t, so she darted into to the cockpit and beckoned Rose over. “Come look, I made some modifications since you saw it last.” She pulled open a panel, revealing a multicolored mess of wires. “I can get it going a good fifteen percent faster now if I flood the lines.”

Rose squinted at the taped-together wires and gingerly pulled out a bundle of them. “What the hell did you do?”

“Creative, isn’t it? I was quite proud.”

“Rey.” Rose put her hands on her hips. “I cannot let you fly this thing. I can’t allow it as a friend, and I  _ really  _ can’t allow it as an engineer.” 

“Ben knows this ship inside and out, and he says it’s fine!” Rey protested. 

“What does he know?” She turned to Ben. “No offense.”

“None taken.” 

_ I like her.  _

_ Don’t take her side. You helped with the modifications.  _ Rey smiled, and Ben smiled back at her, just a little. 

They settled at the table for dinner, which was ration packs and the last of the frozen desserts from Dubrava. Rey also set out a chilled six-pack of Corellian ales from Han’s old stash. She saw Ben notice them with a stab in his chest. 

“It’s a special occasion,” she explained aloud, then  _ sorry,  _ only to him. 

Ben didn’t respond to her apology, but took a bottle and popped the cap off on the edge of the table. “I guess it is.” 

“If you say so!” Rose said, then bit right into her dessert, a frozen chocolate block with fruit and cream swirled in. “I’m sick of rations. Oh dear Force, this is good.” 

“Ben, Rose has a very interesting life story. I thought you might like to hear it, since you’ve also had your share of trouble with the First Order.” She exchanged glances with Rose, who understood.

Rose stuffed another bite of the chocolate in her mouth and washed it down with a swig of ale. “Boy, where to begin? I grew up on Hays Minor, in the Otomok system. I don’t know if you’ve heard of it, but it’s… rough. Big mining operation out there. It wasn’t great to begin with— you know how the Outer Rim is— but after the First Order took over, it got so much worse. I must have been five or six when I started going down in the mines. My sister Paige was probably eight. There were creatures down there, and a lot of us were killed or maimed. As soon as we got old enough, we started fighting back. We took out twelve ore-diggers, my sister and I.” Her smile was proud and sad at the same time. 

Ben listened intently as she spoke, then interjected,  _ "Twelve ore-diggers?  _ On your own? Those things are massive!” 

“If you knew Paige, you wouldn’t be surprised,” Rey said, peeling the label off her bottle of ale. “She’s an explosives mastermind.”

“Eventually they, um.” Rose paused as her voice grew tight. “Sorry. Eventually they cleansed the whole planet. Too much trouble, I guess.” She brushed away a tear, and Rey pulled her closer and kissed the top of her head. She couldn’t help feeling angry at Ben all over again.

_ Did you have anything to do with that? _

_ No, it must have been before my time. But I was involved in plenty of similar operations. _ His mouth was a tense, unhappy line.  __

“Paige and I met up with a Resistance operative who helped get us off-planet,” Rose continued. “And the rest is history, I guess.” 

“Did you ever talk to any of the First Order soldiers?” Ben asked. 

“Not current ones, that would have been a deathwish. But our friend Finn was a stormtrooper, so I know what it was like for him, at least.”

“Mm, FN-2187. I’ve heard of him.”

Rey shot him a look.

“I mean, hasn’t everyone? He’s a legend,” he corrected awkwardly. 

_ Good save. _ Rey rolled her eyes. 

“I don’t hold it against the individuals within the Order,” Rose said thoughtfully. “I think that’s the worst part about it, really. I don’t think anyone really  _ chooses  _ that life. Maybe a few people at the top, but even that I’m not so sure about.”

Ben was drowning in shame next to Rey. Even without Force sensitivity, Rose saw his slumped shoulders and misty red eyes. She reached across the table and put her hand over his. 

“That means you, too,” she said gently. “Whatever you did, it’s not who you are.”

Ben looked at her miserably. “You don’t know that.”

“Well, I know a First Order deserter when I see one. And I know Rey wouldn’t be friends with someone who didn’t have a good heart. So I’m sorry, Ben, but I think I do know that.”

But Ben wasn’t in any place to accept comfort.

“Excuse me,” he said, and got up out of his seat. “It was great to meet you, Rose.” Then he was around the corner and gone.

“Poor guy,” Rose said. “Where’d you pick him up?”

“Long story. I can’t tell you much right now, but he’s come a long way,” Rey said. “I just wish he’d stop running.”

“Too bad Finn’s on D’Quar right now. I’m sure the two of them could find a lot to talk about.” 

“Maybe.” Rey didn’t think Finn would be too keen to meet Kylo Ren again anytime soon. Still, she held out a bit of hope that it could happen someday.

She stayed in the common area with Rose a while longer, until the ales were gone and it was nearly past the base’s curfew. It was so good to talk to her again, and to hear about how everyone else was faring. When it was finally time for Rose to head back, Rey hugged her so tightly that she squeaked. 

“Next time you’re in the area, I’m going to make you take me off-planet for a night or two. I’m sick of salt. I’m always thirsty. Give me some notice and I’ll try to arrange my leave, okay?”

“Promise,” Rey said, and hugged her again. Then she took the loaded datacard from her pocket and slipped it into Rose’s hand. “And give this to your C.O. as soon as you get back. Don’t tell anyone it came from me.” 

Rose looked uncertain, but nodded. Then she flipped her visor down and took off on her speeder into the night. Watching her go, Rey felt very alone. Once Rose’s headlights disappeared, the only light in the salt desert came from the viewport in Ben’s quarters. She sighed and headed back inside. 

“Ben?” She poked her head around his door. “Can I come in?”

Ben sat with his long legs stretched out on the bed, and quickly shifted a pad of paper off his lap and turned it over. “Yeah, come in.”

Rey kicked off her shoes and sat next to him on the bed, legs crossed. “Are you okay?”

“I think so. It just brought up a lot of stuff from my time in the Order. Rose is a good person. She’s...” he trailed off. “She’s strong. Within herself.”

“Yes, she is. I’m glad you... got something out of talking to her,” Rey said awkwardly. Ben looked at her; he was onto her. She took a breath and centered herself in the Force. It was best to speak plainly. “There’s something I need to tell you. Hux has been in contact with me.”

She felt Ben’s nerves light up and his heart race at Hux’s name. For a moment there was only silence as he processed this information. She was reminded again of how wrecked he had been that day, when they first discovered their bond. That awful little redhead really had a hold on him. 

“What?” Ben didn’t sound angry. He didn’t even sound hurt. He sounded lost.

“He called me a few days ago. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have kept it from you. I was scared, and I let that get in my way. But you deserve to know.” She leaned on her knees and took a breath. “He’s… Ben, he’s betrayed the First Order. He gave me a lot of intel to hand over to the Resistance. He wants you dead. Or that’s what he said, anyway, he seemed a little unsure. I don’t know what happened between you, exactly, but—”

“I don’t blame him. He knows the worst of me, probably better than anyone.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“Really?” The look he gave her broke her heart.  _ My problems are a lot to carry. I don’t want to put it all on you. _

“Yes, really.”  _ I can’t carry it for you, but I can listen. _

He exhaled and shut his eyes. “I’m such a fraud, Rey. Spending all this time with you, it’s been great. Really. And I know you think I’ve changed, but I haven’t. Not enough for him.”

“Why do you think that?”

“Because!” he exclaimed. “Because I left him to work under someone who tortured him as a child! I completely betrayed his trust. Of course, he wants me dead. Any change you’ve seen in me is totally meaningless, because I’m still too much of a coward to fix what I’ve done to him.” Ben put his head in his hands.

Rey weighed her response carefully. “Your growth isn’t meaningless, Ben. But you’re right, it might not be enough for Hux. That part isn’t really up to you.”

“I don’t know if I could live with myself if I don’t try to fix things. But what if I try my best and he still rejects me?” His voice wavered. 

“I mean, that’s his right. You should prepare yourself for that possibility.”

“I don’t know if I could take it.”

“Ben,” she said firmly, “an apology isn’t about getting something out of him in return. It’s about speaking from your heart and acknowledging that you hurt him. It’s about making the effort to be better. It’s about listening to him when he tells you what he needs from you. I know you can do that much.” 

He leaned into her heavily, and she wrapped her arms around him. All the time they’d spent together, and she’d barely touched him. But it felt right to hold him now. He felt solid and real in her arms. She was struck by the faith she had in him; she couldn’t recall feeling that way up until this moment. The bond between them thrummed with it, and she felt his gratitude and affection in return.

“I think I need to go back to the fleet,” he murmured into her shoulder.

“Okay,” she said. She absolutely did not relish the thought of flying into the belly of the First Order, nor was she thrilled about Ben going back to those people, even temporarily. But when she looked in her heart, all she found was trust in him. “You drive, then.”

\--

_ Hux, _

_ I understand if you can’t forgive me for...everything. Not saving Starkiller when I could have. Trusting Snoke over you. Making you serve Pryde, even when I knew how much it would hurt you. Running away from my problems and leaving you to clean up the mess. Hurting your staff. Making everything about me all the time. Pushing you away. Not listening to you. Not being there when you needed me. Being an asshole in general.  _

_ You deserved better from the start.  _

_ I’m trying to be better, whether you forgive me or not. If there are things you want to say to me, I’m finally ready to listen.  _

_ I love you, Hux. That’s all.  _

_ Yours, _

_ Ben _

\--

Esteemed Supreme Leader,

I am pleased to report that your fleet, under my command, is operating at a superlative level. Even in the absence of your wise guidance and direction, we have achieved several small, yet symbolically important victories against the rebel forces. We eagerly anticipate your eventual return, that you may witness it with your own eyes. 

I would also be remiss if I did not note the alarming discovery of a traitor within the highest ranks of our organization. Do not worry yourself, however; I have identified the rat and will take the highest pleasure in exterminating it. 

Your most loyal servant,

Allegiant General Enric Pryde

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One chapter to go! What do you think is going to happen?


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many thanks to the talented and illustrious @Blackcat, who jumped in to beta when I was stuck on the ending-- you’re getting a much better version of this chapter thanks to blackcat’s help! Any mistakes are my own, though.
> 
> Chapter specific warnings in endnotes.

Ben flew like he had never flown before.

“Pryde! Do not do anything until I get there! I repeat, do not apprehend the traitor!” he shouted into the holoreceiver. Pryde wasn’t answering any of his calls or viewing his messages. He tried Hux’s coordinates, but he wasn’t answering either. Ben slammed the receiver into its dock so hard the casing cracked.

Hux could hold his own in a fight, Ben told himself. He was quick on the draw and wasn’t a total slouch in close-range combat. He’d fight dirty, if it came to it. There was no way he’d have resorted to espionage without some kind of emergency plan. But Pryde was brutal. And despite appearances, not completely unintelligent, either.

The fleet was converged around the Utapau system when the Falcon caught up to them. As soon as he was in radar range, a TIE formation tried to block him from passing. Ben angled the Falcon nearly sideways and sliced through a narrow opening, then shot toward the massive destroyer at the center. The TIEs quickly circled around and started firing at his tail. Rey, down in the gunner’s seat, returned fire sparingly.

“Craft, identify yourself or we will shoot you down,” a voice said through the static. As if they weren’t trying their best already.

“Stop fucking firing, it’s the Supreme Leader!” he shouted back.

“Please enter your security coordinates to confirm your identity.”

Ben muttered curses to himself as he punched in the numbers. His fingers were shaking so badly that he misentered the code and had to try again. On the second try, it went through, and the TIEs re-formed around him as an escort.

He brought the Falcon way too hot into the Steadfast’s hangar bay and had to jam on the brakes for an ungraceful landing.

“Easy on the brakes!” he heard Rey yell from below.

But Ben was already out of the cockpit and sprinting down the ramp. “Stay here!” he shouted.

The duty officer in the hangar stepped forward. “Supreme Leader, we weren’t expecting—”

“Where is General Hux?” Ben barked.

“I don’t know, Sir. He’s usually on the bridge if he’s on duty,” the cowed officer said.

Ben kept running. He’d never set foot on this ship before; he could only hope that the layout was similar to the Finalizer. He located the central turbolift and took it to the top floor, tapping his finger impatiently against the railing.

 _Hux,_ he thought, desperately hoping that Hux would hear him despite never being able to do so in the past. _Please, find somewhere safe and stay there. I’m coming._

From there he followed the central artery through the ship, following the flow of officers and droids to the heart of the ship, ducking around anyone in his way. The Steadfast was a vast ship, even larger than the Finalizer. But following the cues of the environment did lead him to the bridge. 

“Hux!” he called. Every head at every console turned to look at him. 

A middle-aged woman stepped forward. “Lieutenant General Ways, at your service, Sir.”

“I’m looking for General Hux, where is he?”

“Allegiant General Pryde had a meeting scheduled with him a little while ago. They’re probably almost finished, if you want to meet them in the Allegiant General’s office.”

“Where is that?” Ben asked frantically.

“Out this door, then down the hall to the left, take your first left then two rights, it’ll be your fourth door on the right. It’s labeled, you can’t miss it.”

Ben started running again before she finished her directions. He was too late. He hadn’t come in time, he was sure of it. He was about to find Hux’s lifeless body. He was about to fall to pieces and rip Pryde apart with his bare hands. Using his lightsaber was far too impersonal. But it was his own fault; it was all his fault. He’d been broken before, but it would be nothing compared to this. He would never, ever forgive himself. Two lefts, then a right? Fuck. He couldn’t remember. He stopped in the middle of the hall and could barely discern which way he’d come from. Every direction looked the same. Fuck fuck fuck. 

He reached out with the Force, hoping against hope that he could still find Hux among the throng of nameless beings onboard. Nothing. He couldn’t even center himself enough to listen. He cursed again and took off down the first hallway he saw. Luckily, the door with Pryde’s name on it appeared before long, and Ben forced it open with his raised hand, metal screeching in protest. 

The first thing he saw was a wide pool of dark arterial blood, creeping slowly across the durasteel floor. A spray of blood on the walls. Papers and pens scattered on the floor. A body crumpled on the floor, with a blaster lying just out of its reach.

And leaning against Pryde’s desk, holding a cigarra between bloodstained fingers, was Hux. He took a drag of his cigarra and exhaled smoke, glaring at Ben. Ben felt like his heart would explode in relief. He wanted to run over to Hux and hold him and bury his face in his neck, but he held back. Hux’s face looked thinner and paler, though the latter was probably a result of what he’d just done. Hux would never admit it, but he was not fond of killing people personally. 

“Your new pet had to be put down. Deepest condolences.” For the first time in nearly a year, it wasn’t that detached subordinate voice. This wasn’t a General, speaking to the Supreme Leader. This was Hux, talking to Kylo. 

Ben had rehearsed what he’d say over and over again in his head, but now, with a dead body and a bloodsoaked Hux in front of him, he couldn’t remember a thing. Hux was putting on a stoic face, but Ben knew him well enough to see that he was shaken.

“Hux, I’m—”

“I like this office.” Hux kicked at Pryde’s body absently. “I think I’ll take it.” 

“Yeah, whatever you want,” Ben said, thrown. “Listen, Hux, I came to apologize to you.”

Hux looked up, startled.

“I— I can’t stand the way I’ve treated you. There’s no excuse for it. I’ve been thinking a lot, and I’m trying to be better. I’m stepping down as Supreme Leader, for a start, and… if you never want to talk to me again, I understand, I just… I just wanted you to know,” he said, then cringed inwardly. That was nowhere near enough.

Hux didn’t respond right away, just inhaled the last of his cigarra and flicked the butt into the pool of blood. When he spoke, his voice was low and deadly. “Where the hell have you been?” 

“As far away as I could get, mostly,” Ben admitted. “But lately I’ve been traveling around with someone who helped me see things differently. I know how it sounds, but I think just getting away from the Order, away from Snoke, was good—”

“Well, that’s all very heartwarming,” Hux interrupted, drumming his fingers impatiently against the desk. “But while you were taking your sweet time soul-searching, do you know where I was? Do you know what I was doing?”

Shame stayed Ben’s tongue. He knew the answers to those questions; none of what Hux was saying was untrue. 

“I was running your organization for you! I was fighting your war! I was watching my back at every second like some 22-year-old lieutenant!” Hux was nearly shouting, then composed himself. “You may have had the luxury of forgetting about me, but I never, for one minute, got to escape what you did to me.” 

“I never forgot you,” Ben said quietly.

Hux laughed, a raw, nervous little sound. “So you must have enjoyed it, then. Tormenting me.”

“Hux,” Ben pleaded. He took a step closer, but Hux moved away from him. 

“If you came back to unburden yourself at my feet, consider it done. Apology received. There’s not a fucking thing I need from you.” Hux wiped his boots on a clean section of Pryde’s uniform to get the blood off the soles and smoothed his hair with his hands. “Now, please excuse me while I continue to run the Order. Goodbye.” 

He brushed past Ben and left the office, the nearly-broken door screeching closed behind him. Ben ran his fingers through his hair and exhaled heavily. Hux had always guarded himself closely when he was hurt; it was probably too optimistic to hope for anything different. 

He looked again at the body on the floor, then flipped it over with his boot. Hux had slit the man’s throat from ear to ear. A mixture of guilt and perverse pride settled in his stomach. Hux had tolerated enough mistreatment, and now the last of those men had met his end. If Ben was one of that number, never to be allowed back into his life, well, good for Hux. 

He hoisted the body over his shoulder and headed out into the hall with it. It was his mess to clean up, anyway, and who was going to say a thing about it? Ben headed out from the center of the ship to the nearest external wall, where the airlocks should be, when he saw a face that looked familiar. The young officer averted his eyes and hurried along, desperate to remain unnoticed. 

“Hey!” Ben called. 

The young man froze, then turned around slowly, unable to keep dread from showing on his face.

“You were on the Finalizer, weren’t you?” He tried to keep his tone nonthreatening, but it didn’t seem to help.

“Yes, sir.”

Ben sighed. The events of those awful few days came back to him in pieces. “I remember you. I injured you pretty badly, didn’t I?”

“...Yes, sir,” he said warily. 

“I’m sorry. You didn’t deserve that. What’s your name?”

“Ensign Dopheld Mitaka, sir.”

Ben frowned. “Ensign, really? I thought you were higher.” 

“I was, sir. I served as a lieutenant aboard the Finalizer, then was promoted to Major following the fall of Starkiller.” 

“What happened? Did Hux demote you?” Ben asked, surprised. Hux was always careful to never use humiliation as punishment; retraining and reconditioning always came first. This didn’t sound like him.

“No, sir, it was…” he nodded at the body slung over Ben’s shoulder. 

“Oh.” Ben glanced at it. “Well, you don’t have to worry about him anymore.” 

Mitaka pursed his lips and nodded tightly. An uncomfortable silence dragged between them, and Ben reached for the right thing to say. The way Mitaka wouldn’t meet his eye made Ben wonder how much he knew. 

“Now that he’s dead, do you want your old rank back?” It was the least he could do. And he was sure that Hux would have been furious about Pryde demoting his staff. 

“Really?” Mitaka’s surprise was genuine.

“Sure,” Ben shrugged. “Hell, do you want to be a Lieutenant Colonel? A Colonel?”

Disapproval flickered over his features. “Just Major, Sir. That’s the rank I earned.”

“Of course. Right, sorry. Consider it done. Hey, can you tell me where the nearest airlock is?” Ben asked, and shifted the dead weight on his shoulder. All that time away from the Order, and he’d forgotten how serious soldiers tended to be.

“Down this hallway another hundred meters, Sir. It’ll be on your left.” 

“Thanks.” 

\--

When he got back to the hangar where the Falcon was parked, Rey was playing dejarik against a helmetless trooper, with two others watching. “Right, but look what happens if you do that: I’ll take your Cleric. Do you want to take that move back?” she said. 

“You’d let me do that?” the trooper said incredulously. 

Rey was about to respond when she spotted Ben in the doorway. “Hold on, guys, I’ll be back soon. Zap, take my place.” She shuffled out of the booth and another trooper took her place at the game board. She motioned Ben to follow her to the cockpit and shut the door behind them. 

“What happened? Did you get there in time?” she asked.

“He’s okay, no thanks to me,” Ben said. “Pryde was already dead by the time I got there. Hux cut his throat.”

Rey made a face and leaned back against the doorway. “Is that normal, around here? Never mind, it’s better than the alternative. Did you get to talk to him?”

Ben sank into the co-pilot’s chair. He hadn’t realized how exhausted he felt. “Yeah, a little. He wasn’t too interested in an apology. I should have expected that. Seems obvious now.” 

“What are you going to do now?”

“I was thinking I’d give him space for a bit, then maybe try talking to him once more. I didn’t do a good job explaining myself the first time.”

Rey chewed her lip skeptically. “I dunno, Ben, it sounds like he gave you a pretty clear answer, even if you don’t like it. You don’t want to push too hard.” 

“I’m not pushing, I’m just… I know him.” He knew Hux was hurt, and lonely. Probably afraid for his life, after what he’d done earlier. Apology aside, if there was anything Ben could do to protect or comfort Hux, he wanted to. 

Rey frowned again, and a peal of laughter came from the common room where the troopers were finishing their game. She glanced at the door. “Come out and play a round or two with us while you think it over. You have some great people on your ship, you should get to know them.”

Ben hesitated. He was really in no mood to talk to strangers and pretend everything was fine. But when Rey suggested something, it was usually a good idea. “Okay. One round,” he relented. He wasn’t planning to visit Hux again until later at night, after they’d both had a chance to calm down, so he might as well play along for a bit.

“Good. Just change your clothes first, you smell like death,” Rey said, on her way out the door. 

Ben looked down and remembered that his black clothes were covered in Pryde’s blood. He never used to care about that kind of thing (and still didn’t, to be honest), but being a better person probably involved not terrifying others, as a baseline. He grunted wearily and headed back to the refresher.

* * *

Hux did his level best to continue with his day as normal. When he circled back to Pryde’s office, after five cigarras and a glass of whiskey to calm his nerves, the body was already gone, the room already clean. Ren must have taken care of it out of guilt. Hux would make an announcement tomorrow about Pryde’s tragic heart attack, surely the result of years of hard work and self-sacrifice on behalf of the Order. He’d arrange a closed-casket funeral and shoot the empty tube out into space. Closed-casket ceremonies were common, and everyone knew what they meant. And it wasn’t like Hux was lacking that reputation to begin with.

Ren would be there for the final rites. He would have to be, for such a high-ranking death. Better to have it happen as soon as possible so Ren could disappear again, probably for the last time. If he was abdicating his position, that left him in a very similar position to Hux: homeless, stateless, wanted and unwanted in all the wrong ways. Though Ren could always “go home” to the Resistance, or at least try. And without Ren or Pryde above him, Hux could feel free to assume control of the Order and run it as he saw fit. 

But in spite of a lifetime of wishing for exactly this opportunity, Hux found it unappealing. Since he’d been released from the brig, he was no longer sure what he wanted. Maybe freedom. Maybe quiet. Maybe nothing at all. But he felt quite certain that he no longer wanted to rule. A frightening thing, to be so unmoored from his ambitions. 

He took a lap around the Steadfast to make himself visible to as many people as possible, exuding calm and normalcy. The worst thing to do after an assassination was to hide out; it would only make him appear suspicious. After he was satisfied that all the right people had seen him, he finally allowed himself to return to his quarters, where he locked the doors and turned off all the listening devices.

He took a sonic shower that he wished were scalding hot water, changed into his long black robe, and poured himself another glass of whiskey. When he settled on the couch, the shaking he’d been suppressing for hours finally came to the surface, and he rubbed his arms to calm himself. It wasn’t from cold, but he pulled the blanket off his bed anyway and wrapped it tightly around himself.

Pryde was dead.

Ren was back. 

Seeing him again was a shock that Hux hadn’t been able to quantify, especially at that particular moment. Now that the initial shock had drained partially, he was mostly left with anger. At Ren, yes, for showing up out of nowhere with some grand, botched apology for actions he didn’t even seem to understand his own motives for. But the anger was mostly reserved for himself. The way his heart, his whole body, still responded to Ren’s presence. 

The door buzzed and Hux nearly jumped out of his skin. He got up and went to check the monitor, fully expecting to see one of Pryde’s allies leading a complement of marine troopers to execute him. But it was Ren. 

Hux stepped back and allowed him in wordlessly. If nothing else, having the Supreme Leader in his quarters would be decent protection against assassination attempts tonight. _Not that he’d let Ren stay the night,_ he corrected. Not that he’d let Ren stay longer than a few _minutes_. Hux stared at him expectantly, arms crossed. 

Ren stood awkwardly at a distance and didn’t meet his eye. “I wanted to make sure you were okay.” 

“I’m fine.” Hux kept his voice cold.

“Good. Good,” Ren said doubtfully. “I just remember you used to hate--”

“I have always done what needed to be done. Regardless of my feelings about it.” 

“I know.” Ren’s tone was unreadable, landing somewhere between fondness and sorrow. Hux watched his eyes as they tracked over the room. The cramped dimensions. The flickering lights and cheap modular furniture. The flimsy, broken sliding door to the refresher. The outdated droid. It was humiliating to have Ren see the depths he’d fallen to, but a fresh wave of defiant anger soon followed. If he was so intent on making amends, why shouldn’t Ren witness the full picture of his betrayal? But Ren’s gaze had fallen on something in the corner and stayed there. 

It was Hux’s drawing of the TIE Silencer, sitting unhung and propped against the far wall. 

“I thought it was lost.” Ren tore his eyes from the drawing and looked back at Hux. “You took it with you from the Finalizer?” 

Hux said nothing. 

Ren closed the distance between them in one long stride, then dropped to his knees and wrapped his arms around Hux’s waist, pressing his nose into the soft fabric of Hux’s robe and inhaling. “I’m sorry, Hux,” he whispered. 

Hux punched his shoulder, but there wasn’t any heat behind it. 

“How could you have done this to me?” His voice broke. “I was done with this shit. Brendol’s gone, Traf’s gone, Brooks is gone, Pryde was out of the picture. It was over.” 

Ren sighed heavily and hugged him tighter. “There’s no excuse I could give you, but I can give you my best attempt at an explanation. When I met you, I was completely unmoored… from everything. My home, my family, everything I’d known to be true was a lie. Or,” he corrected, “you know, that’s what Snoke was telling me. Then I met you, and you seemed so sure of yourself, that what you were doing was correct, so I held onto your certainty like an anchor. It made me feel sane, to have you there as my compass. And I got so angry when you’d tell me that I was on the wrong path, with Snoke, because I wanted so badly for you to be wrong. You weren’t, of course. I should have trusted you from the start.”

Hux listened numbly. He could drown in Ren’s voice, even as it reopened old wounds. 

“Then, after Starkiller, after… I did what I did, I kept thinking back to when you killed your father. You were upset about it, but you were always sure it was the right thing to do. You never wavered on that point. I didn’t feel that way. It felt wrong, and it broke me. First I hated myself, and then I hated you for succeeding in all the ways I’d failed. And I wanted to see you break the same way I had, because if I could make you fall apart, it would mean that I wasn’t the only one. And none of this was clear to me at the time, by the way. I just knew that I wanted you to hurt.” 

“Well,” Hux said. “You succeeded.” 

Ren nodded and sat back on his heels, then wiped tears from his eyes. 

“I suppose I owe you an apology as well.” Hux rubbed his face. He felt unaccountably tired and sad. He let his hand come to rest on Ren’s hair, which had grown longer since Hux saw him last. “I sold you out to the Resistance. Along with the rest of the Order, but I can’t imagine you care about that. So if you were hoping for a warm welcome over there, you may want to reconsider. ”

“Oh,” Ben said sheepishly. “No, I knew about that. I’ve been living with Rey on my father’s ship for the last month. She’s waiting down in the hangar bay right now.” 

There wasn’t much that could surprise Hux anymore, but that did the job. He was silent for a long moment as it sank in. He should have felt betrayed, but he didn’t have the energy for it anymore. Instead, the guilt he’d felt about putting Ren in danger started to slowly ebb away. He was grateful to Rey for lying to him, for keeping Ren safe. 

“You know the worst part of all this?” Hux’s voice was hollow. “I know I could never have gone through with it. Seeing you come to harm. I went to Rey specifically because I thought she would spare you. She let you come back to me once before.” 

Ren stood up and took Hux into his arms and kissed him, long and deep. Kissing Ren back, their bodies fitting together tightly, felt as natural as it was inevitable. The empty feeling fell away in pieces, letting him remember how painfully lonely he’d truly been. Ren’s long fingers tangled gently in Hux’s hair, brushing it away from his face, then settled on his cheek. The tenderness in the gesture nearly broke Hux, after a year without being touched and far longer without being touched _like that._

Something about Ren felt different. There was something surrounding them both-- Hux could only think to call it _energy_ \-- that felt all-encompassing in the way the Force used to, on the few occasions Hux had allowed Ren to use it on him. But this new feeling wasn’t pitch-black and ice-cold, like the Force was. It was still dark, but it felt more like a blanket, warm and safe from harm. If such a thing was possible, it felt well-intentioned.

Hux pulled back from the kiss. “That feeling…” he asked, uncertain, “is that you?”

“Mhm, kind of,” Ren murmured, and kissed his neck. “Do you like it?”

“Yes… have you given up your training, though? Is this the other side of the Force?”

“It’s more complicated than that. I can try to explain later, if you want. But just enjoy it for now. It’s as much yours as it is mine.” 

Hux was about to ask what that meant, but Ren kissed him again. The dark, warm feeling wrapped around him again and Hux let himself sink into it. The constant dry chill of the Steadfast slowly released its grip on his bones, and he took Ren’s hand and led him over to the small bed. Ren raised his eyebrows, asking for confirmation, and Hux gave a nod. 

It was strange to remember that he even had a body. He’d barely given it a thought in months, beyond shoving food in his mouth when he started to feel faint from hunger or lying down for a couple hours when he felt like collapsing from fatigue. Yet there it was, under the robe and underthings that Ren took off piece by piece, almost reverently. The neck that Ren kissed, the knobs of his spine against the hard mattress, the chill of his exposed skin. Then, Ren’s big fingers opened him up, slick inside him, rubbing against that long-neglected spot that never failed to make him moan, until it wrung desperate pleas from his lips. 

When he flipped over and Ren finally slid inside him from behind, the way Hux liked, it was almost as if no time had passed at all. Just another round of makeup sex after a particularly bad fight. 

What Ren had said was true, Hux realized. The new energy wasn’t emanating solely from him: it was a co-creation, a unique phenomenon that existed in the space between them. A brief stab of anxiety spiked in Hux’s chest; it was too vulnerable to feel his own energy intermingle freely with Ren’s. He still wanted that protective barrier up, but his fear was almost entirely smoothed away by the warm darkness and Ren’s hand on his waist. 

The stretch around Ren’s cock was nearly overwhelming in its comforting familiarity. But underneath that, Hux felt something rising from his stomach up to his throat, a sickening feeling of not-rightness. Something _too_ comforting. Too familiar. Too much the same. Hux pushed the feeling away, trying to lose himself in the pleasure, but it kept creeping back in. 

“Ren,” he whimpered. 

“Please,” Ren said, just as softly, “call me Ben?”

“Ben.” Saying that name, which he hadn’t spoken aloud in years, made the last of Hux’s walls crumble. Tears rushed to his eyes and spilled over before he could stop them. “Ben. Fuck you, Ben.”

“Hey, hey. I’m sorry,” Ben said gently. He stopped moving his hips and smoothed his hands over Hux’s bare shoulders. 

“Don’t you dare stop,” Hux snapped through his tears. He had the awful feeling that if Ben stopped now, they would never start again. “Fuck you. Keep going.”

Ben looked at him with concern, then did as Hux asked, sliding in and out at a slower pace this time. Hux sniffed and gathered himself, grateful for the pillow he could bury his face in. The prospect of looking Ben in the face, after so long, was overwhelming. Part of him wanted badly to turn around and see the same young face he’d fallen in love with, years ago. But if it wasn’t actually him, if he turned and saw the face that had betrayed him, Hux’s heart might break all over again. 

“Can you turn over?” It sounded like Ben’s voice.

“What for?” Hux said, with all the dull petulance he could muster. 

“You never let me see you. I always wanted to.” 

Hux made a small noise of protest and swiped his hand over his eyes, but he turned over and wrapped his legs around Ben’s waist as he slid into him once more. He kept his eyes closed and felt Ben drop down to his elbows, seeking closeness. The friction of Ben’s stomach against his cock ratcheted up Hux’s arousal. A breathy gasp escaped him, and then Ben’s mouth was on his, his tongue warm and his breath hot. 

Hux’s fingers found their way into Ben’s hair and pulled him closer. Ben moaned against his mouth, all need and relief and gratitude, and it was so easy to pretend everything could be fine. Stop thinking, stop worrying, stop hurting, and just let himself fall headlong into the fantasy. 

“Look at me? Please?” Ben asked, and the tremor in his voice made Hux’s heart swell so painfully that he blinked his eyes open. 

It wasn’t Kylo Ren hovering an intimate distance over him, as he’d feared, but neither was it the 24-year-old Ben that he remembered. This Ben was more filled out, with some of Ren’s harsher lines to his face but none of the heavy anger in his brow. His eyes were damp, the way Ren’s often were, but the adoration in those eyes was all Ben. 

“It’s you,” Hux whispered.

“Yeah,” Ben said simply, and brushed a stray lock of hair back from Hux’s forehead. “It’s me.” 

From there, Hux let his body take over. He pulled Ben back into a bruising kiss and canted his hips up to feel him deeper. The drag of Ben’s cock over his prostate was excruciatingly good, and his breath grew ragged. Ben held him tighter, the press of his body against Hux’s nearly unbearable in its intimacy. Hux pressed his heels against Ben’s ass, urging him into a faster rhythm. Ben poured whispered nonsense into his ear, “So good, Hux, yes, yes, oh fuck you’re perfect, yes, just like that.” 

Hux’s nails dug into Ben’s back, nearly drawing blood, and the desperate moans he heard in response shoved him over the edge. 

Hux hadn’t even touched himself in a year. His orgasm nearly knocked the wind out of him, a violent, all-consuming wave that wracked his entire body. Ben held him steady as his cock pulsed between them, thrusting slower and deeper, the drag of inches nearly overwhelming.

“Hux, Hux,” Ben murmured, so close, so soft against Hux’s neck. “Let me come inside you. I want to so bad, will you let me?”

“Yes, do it. I want you to,” Hux said, slack and helpless against the weight of Ben’s body and the sound of his voice. _Ben._

As if on command, Ben came with a cry, and Hux could swear that he felt the sensation ripple through him like a shockwave, impossible though it was. And as soon as it passed, like a wave sucking back into the sea, that sheen of easy abandon was gone, leaving only the uncertain clench of his heart. 

Ben tried to meet his eye, but Hux pulled his glance away, the intimacy between them rapidly chilled. He shifted off of Hux and leaned back against the wall. Hux let him slide one arm over his shoulders, but he made no move to snuggle closer. For several long minutes, neither of them said anything. Hux wasn’t sure what could even be said. Ben was the first to finally break the silence.

“So,” he said, sounding self-conscious, “now that I’m stepping down, what do you want to do?”

“I don’t know what I want. I only know that I don’t want to lead the Order,” Hux said slowly. He’d never spoken it out loud before, but saying it now felt correct. 

“Really?” 

Hux nodded. 

“We can leave anytime. Do you want to leave?” Ben asked, eyes searching.

Hux almost laughed in disbelief. “Do you seriously expect me to drop everything and run off into the sunset with you? Is that what you’ve been angling for?”

“I’m not _angling_ for anything.” Ben looked hurt. “I was happier away from the Order. I think you could be, too, if you gave it a chance. That’s all.” 

“Yes, quite easy to be happy when you abandon all your responsibilities, I imagine.” Hux could hardly believe how fast they’d reverted to arguing. All that time, all that pain, all that change, and the second he got in a room alone with Ren, they were arguing again. The realization spread through his veins like poison, and his shoulders dropped. The compulsive love, the gnawing drive to ignore everything and fall into Ben’s arms... they would be right back where they started. Hux put his head in his hands. He couldn’t push the feeling away this time. “I can’t do it, Ben.” 

“That’s okay. We don’t have to leave, we can figure something else out.” Ben stroked Hux’s back, but Hux shifted away from him. 

“No. I can’t do… this. I can’t be with you. I can’t just forgive and forget. I’m trying to make better decisions for myself, and for the first time, I feel like that’s actually possible.” The words barely registered as his own. 

Ben opened his mouth to speak, then closed it again. Hux could almost hear the _I’m trying, too_ that went unsaid. 

“I know,” Hux responded anyway. “I see how you’ve changed, really. But what does it say that we’ve both grown more in the year we were apart than the five years we were together? Look what’s happening already. We’re right on the edge of a fight after ten minutes together. I don’t want us to be so tightly wrapped up that we orbit around each other instead of moving forward.”

“I did it for you.” Ben looked like Hux had kicked him. “I wanted to be better for you.” 

“I don’t think that’s true. And I think you know it’s not true,” Hux said firmly. 

Ben looked at the floor and nodded. 

“Listen. When we were together, you were my whole world,” Hux continued. He couldn’t recall ever being so open with Ren. Even when they escalated to shouting, he’d held things back. It was terrifying, but also relieving. “I got lost in you. I don’t trust myself to keep that from happening again. No matter how hurt I was, no matter how much I tried to hate you, I couldn’t. I never, ever stopped loving you. And I think I always will. But I’m not convinced that’s a good thing.” 

“Yeah, I…” Ben said hoarsely, then cleared his throat. “I get it.” He reached down to gather his clothes and started getting dressed. Hux pulled his knees to his chest under the covers and watched him quietly. He couldn’t lie to himself and say it didn’t hurt to let Ben go, just as he’d gotten him back. 

“I’m sorry,” he began, then hesitated, “that it has to be like this.”

Ben smiled sadly, then leaned down and took Hux’s head in his hands, brushing his thumbs over Hux’s temples. “Don’t be. I’m happy for you.” 

Hux swallowed the lump in his throat. “Are you? Because I’m not.”

“How could I not be? Yeah, it’s hard right now, I’m…” Ben’s voice died in his throat. 

Hux heard a faint echo of _...shattered_ somewhere in the back of his head, and he closed his eyes against it. 

Ben swallowed hard and continued, “But you’re doing what’s best for you. And that’s what I want, too. I’d have to be a real idiot to expect you to trust me now, right?” He laughed shakily. “I don’t want you to be with someone you can’t trust. And whatever you decide to do with the Order, you don’t have to do it alone. I’ll do anything I can to help, even if it’s from far away. You can have all the time and space you want. Just please, Hux, don’t shut me out. Not forever.”

“I can’t promise you anything,” Hux said honestly, as much as he wanted to reassure Ben with lies. He looked up at Ben, silently begging him to understand. How could he? Hux could barely comprehend it himself, how he could push Ben out of his life after wanting him back for so long. But his decision was immovable and solid. He waited for Ben to plead, to push back, to lash out. Any of the things Ren would have done. 

But Ben only nodded, then leaned down and kissed the top of his head. He turned and left, and the door slid shut behind him. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter warnings: minor character death, lots of blood.


	9. Epilogue

_WHEREAS Galactic conflict between two centralized opposing factions has sown chaos and discord throughout the Galaxy for fifty years;_

_WHEREAS the high command of the First Order are voluntarily stepping down and have agreed to cease all activities of war;_

_WHEREAS the standing forces of the former First Order are largely comprised of involuntary recruits seized from subjugated planets;_

_WHEREAS the operations of the former First Order have become crucial to the economic survival of subjugated planets, particularly in under-resourced parts of the Outer Rim historically overlooked by other governing bodies;_

_THEREFORE be it resolved that through the combined efforts of the former Resistance and former First Order, now known as the United Galactic Alliance (UGA):_

  * _There will be no further acts of aggression between the former Resistance and the former First Order._


  * Planetary systems will be free to choose their own forms of government with UGA support, as long as they do not intrude on the self-determination of others. 


  * Former First Order capital ships shall be converted into neutral “floating cities” to house and provide for former First Order recruits who cannot or choose not to be repatriated to their home planets. 


  * Former First Order armies garrisoned on subjugated planets will assist a peaceful transition of power to local authorities within 180 local days, including the formation of three-year economic transition plans to ensure the survival of said populations. 



* * *

“Last time I was there, I stayed with a woman who made this— I don’t know what to call it, it’s like a cactus stew with spices—”

“Kalanchoe chili.” 

“Yes, that’s it!” Rey said. “Anyway, it was delicious, I want to find some while we’re on planet.”

“I’ll have to give it another try. Thursdays were kalanchoe chili day at the Academy, and it was horrible. Like bitter glue. The powers-that-be were all for using local ingredients because it was cost-efficient, but none of the kitchen staff were Arkanian, so it was doomed from the start.” 

Rey laughed, and Hux smiled, too. It would be only a few more minutes at lightspeed before the Falcon dropped into orbit over Arkanis. They’d done a handful of these diplomatic check-ins together since the dissolution of the First Order, and after some initial prickliness, they’d worked well together. Rey had the people skills, Hux had the technical background, and both of them were fluent in the cultural eccentricities of the Outer Rim. Hux was glad that he had Rey with him for this mission in particular, which would be quite routine apart from the personal significance of it. _Home_ was the Finalizer, so it wasn’t quite that, but Arkanis might be a distant second. 

Hux smoothed the front of his plain gray Alliance uniform and settled back comfortably into his seat. He carried no rank on his sleeve anymore, and he rarely missed it. He was getting to do what he was always best at: organizing resources and overseeing infrastructure development. The constant stream of requests for his expertise was recognition enough. 

The glacial work of rebuilding the galaxy kept him pleasantly busy, and the non-hierarchical nature of the Alliance made it possible to maintain friendly contact with his fellow workers, even though he was slow to accept their kindness. His isolation was thawing, bit by bit, but undoing a lifetime of forced habit was an arduous task. Occasionally he’d overhear talk about Ben Solo (or Kylo Ren, or the former Supreme Leader, depending on who was talking) and his Hosnian refugee resettlement initiatives in the mid-Rim. It was hard to imagine Ren as anything but a combatant, but the gossip was positive. 

They’d spoken only a handful of times since Hux ended things. Ben was never the one to initiate contact, but he was always quick to respond when Hux’s loneliness flared up and got the better of him. Each communication was fragile as glass, polite, fond yet restrained. Hux was almost afraid to ask Ben anything too personal, and Ben didn’t offer anything up, probably wary of coming across the wrong way. 

“How is he?”

Rey gave him a tender look. She didn’t need clarification. “He’s good, Hux. He’s doing the work he needs to do. I tell him the same thing, when he asks about you. Sit tight,” she said, and dropped the Falcon out of hyperspace with a mild jolt. 

The whole planet was enveloped in a dense blanket of rainclouds, with only the very tips of the equatorial mountains breaking through. Hux peered down and pointed out one tall jagged peak. “I broke my ankle on that one as a teenager. It was part of this solo wilderness survival exam. I was sure I was going to fail, even if I didn’t die, but apparently survival was all it took to pass. I switched my track to engineering the day I got released from medbay.” 

Hux chuckled, but Rey had a strange look on her face. “Of course,” she murmured. 

“Hm?”

“Did Ben tell you how he and I met last year?”

“No, I didn’t ask.”

“He crash-landed here on Arkanis while I was visiting—”

“ _Ben Solo_ crashed?” That was impossible. The man was a born pilot, there was no way he’d ever allow that to happen. “ _Here?_ ” 

“He was in a really bad way, Hux. I think he was punishing himself any way he could think of, and it caught up to him,” Rey emphasized. Then she paused, as if preparing to explain something that wouldn’t be well-received. Hux hoped it was nothing to do with the Force. “I know you don’t believe in this, but it wasn’t just a coincidence. That I met him at that time, in this place that’s so important to you. He could probably feel the traces of you on the planet. I’d never connected the dots until just now.” 

“You’re right, I don’t believe in all that.” Hux had gotten used to all the Force talk from the two of them, but it didn’t mean he liked it. “He never even told me he was on Arkanis at all. If it was that significant, don’t you think he would have mentioned it?”

“I guess you’d have to ask him,” she said. “When was the last time you two spoke?”

“Month before last, at the Rim Summit. We talked for a while and stayed pleasant. It was good to see him, but I don’t know… I’m still not—” 

“You don’t have to explain yourself to me,” Rey said. 

“I know I don’t.” That was why Hux liked her. He opened his mouth, then closed it, considering. “Trust comes slowly, is all.”

Rey nodded, and they lapsed into an easy silence as the Falcon slowed its descent over the jagged mountain ranges of Arkanis, and the misty green valleys of the northern region came into view below them. 

\--

The first day went well. Hux was pleased to see that most of the younger Academy students had gone back home to their families. A sizeable group of the older students, the young adults, had made the Academy buildings into a semi-permanent dwelling for themselves and were working in the nearby towns or in the fields. Hux got to meet with several of them and was impressed with their efforts, even if they kept calling him “General Hux.” Hux corrected them each time. 

By the end of the afternoon, the near-constant rain had subsided, leaving a pleasant warm evening. Hux recalled that Ren used to talk fondly about spending time planetside. “Fresh air,” he’d always said. Hux had never understood the appeal; planets were always hot or cold or wet. But this evening was nice enough that Hux barely resisted when Rey suggested eating dinner outside on a tarp on the ground. 

He brought out eating utensils and a bottle of wine with two glasses, then did his best to arrange it all the way it would go on a table. “People do this? They just sit and eat on the ground for fun?”

“A lot of people, yeah.” Rey opened her container of kalanchoe chili and offered it to Hux. “Give this a try, see if it’s better than you remember.” 

Hux accepted the container and gave an exploratory sniff. The aromatic blend of spiced vegetables instantly transported him back to the Academy. That smell was so often paired with his father’s rank cologne that pervaded the entire building. His chest tightened and a swell of nausea rose briefly, then passed. He handed the container back to Rey. “I’m sure it’s delicious, but not for me, thank you.” 

The midsummer sun was setting over the hills, which meant it was already getting quite late. The dying embers of sunlight just tipped the damp blades of grass like lit matches, and Hux couldn’t help but notice how beautiful it was. He’d never paid attention to that sort of thing when he was younger. 

They wrapped up dinner just as it was getting dark, and Rey moved to gather the dishes and empty food containers to bring inside. “Don’t bother,” Hux said. “I’m going to stay out here a while longer. I’ll bring everything in when I come inside.”

“Okay. Don’t get eaten alive by bugs,” Rey said, and headed back inside. 

Hux shifted off the tarp and lay back in the long grass. Some of the evening damp soaked through the back of his shirt, but he barely minded. Ben was right. The warm air did feel fresh on his skin. It carried the scent of the earth and the newly-watered plants. The sounds of the night were familiar, even if he’d never noticed them in particular when he’d lived here. The singing insects. The gentle wind. The orbaks bellowing over on the other side of the hill. But the tranquility of it all only made the low-burning loneliness in his chest tug harder. 

He pulled his datapad out of his pocket. His fingers hovered over the keyboard, unsure what he even wanted to say. “I miss you”? “I’m cold every night without you next to me”? “I still have complicated anger toward you but I can’t help thinking of you whenever I see something beautiful”?

_A. Hux (22:58): I heard you wrecked the Silencer I built for you. Were you planning to tell me that?_

_B. Solo (23:01): Oh. Yes. Sorry._

_A. Hux (23:02): No matter now. I’m back on Arkanis._

_B. Solo (23:02): Really?_

_A. Hux (23:03): Yes, doing a diplomatic check-in with Rey. It’s not such an awful place, after all. I think it was just Brendol who made it that way._

_B. Solo (23:05): Yeah. I’m finding the same thing about the places I grew up. Very strange feeling. I was only there for a couple days, and I was pretty much at my worst at the time, but Arkanis seemed like a nice little planet. I’d like to see it again someday, when I can really appreciate it._

A strange peace was settling in Hux’s core. The deep wounds Ren had left hadn’t healed, not fully, but, perhaps for the first time, he did not feel like he needed to protect himself from Ben. 

_A. Hux (23:07): Would you like to come see it now, while I’m here?_

There was a long silence, and Hux thought Ben might have been scared off by the question, or just pulled away by work. Which was fine. It was a longshot to ask, anyway. He lay back in the long damp grass and stared up at the stars, configured exactly as he’d learned them as a child. He’d learned dozens of star maps since, from the vantages of most of the Order’s important planetary holdings, but this set of visible stars, in this orientation, was always the one he thought of first. 

Hux had almost drifted off to sleep in the grass when the datapad buzzed next to him. He rolled onto his side, head propped on one elbow, to read it.

_B. Solo (23:18): Are you sure, Hux?_

_A. Hux (23:19): Yes. This is not a grand reunion, mind you. I’m not there and I still can’t promise I ever will be. But I’d like to see you, and I’d like to show you around the planet. It’s quite lovely here._

_B. Solo (23:19): I’m leaving now. I’ll be there in twelve hours._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who has read to the end! I hope you enjoyed it. This was my first attempt at something longer than a oneshot, and I am so grateful for your support and patience.


End file.
